#but you know what good surgeons do belle? you know what they do? THEY TIE THEIR HAIR UP

[ravenpuffheadcanons]

WHY is Belle’s hair down in the 1850s IN AN OPERATING THEATRE though

[sooghostwriter]

Extra Shift

Member/Pairing: Do Kyung Soo x OC Genre/Type: Mature, Romance, Angst, Doctor AU. Warnings: OC is married.  Word count: 6,284

Summary: Kyung Soo fell in love with So Min at med school. But she wasn’t alone.

Some years later,  he meets her again, but her life hasn’t changed since those days. Neither his feelings. 

Chapter I

“You look very beautiful dear” Her father told her as soon as So Min approached him.

“Thanks dad, you look very handsome too”

“Well, this is the only opportunity I have to look good since the rest of the year I’m wearing a scrub” She knew what he meant. Since her father was alone at the door greeting their guests, she decided to stay there with him as his daughter and a doctor of the hospital.

As every year the hospital was celebrating its anniversary. This time it was the 20th celebration, so the party was a bit bigger than in other years. More than 200 guests, from doctors to nurses, therapists and the most important ones, donors, business partners, and people from the government, 

“Our new pediatric surgeon arrives today”

“I was informed dad, your new favorite?” Her dad every year had a new favorite doctor. This new favorite didn’t get better pay or better shifts. Her dad would only talk about them at any given time, and maybe he would send them to several symposiums during the year. 

“This kid is going to be good for us, not only he’s  bringing all his patients but also he is becoming the best in the area”

“Where did he study?”

“Same as you, he was one year higher than you, he says he remembers you”

“Really, what’s his name?”

“Do Kyung Soo” The name rang a bell, but a very distant one. She went over all the faces of the students she met during those years, but his name could only bring one memory back.

“Ah! I remember him! Up skirt Kyung Soo!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, he was a player back then, so everybody called him that, because that’s where his hand will end up, up the ski…”

“Yes, I understand, thank you” He said cutting her off, but still laughed. 

“I didn’t know that, and I was his teacher for a year…did he…you know…with you?”

“Oh, no way dad, I was already dating my husband at that time” Her dad fixed his tie, slightly irked. 

“You should have dated more” He wasn’t very fond of his son-in-law. He just never liked the idea of his daughter getting married so young, and so inexperienced. 

“We are not discussing this dad, also it is too late for me to date some more” She answered playfully, already aware of her father’s opinion. 

“By the way, where is he?” She did her best to keep a composed expression, a carefree one maybe. 

“He had a surgery, and he will be done late, I told him to go straight home” He nodded as he greeted a new guest and then changed the subject. 

“Now that you told me that about Kyung Soo, I’m going to think about it each time I see him, it’s like I just forgot all the great things about him and the only thing there is his silly nickname, is hilarious”

“Don’t tell him that I told you, I’m sure he is not like that anymore” She tried to defend her colleague. Her dad looked into the distance still laughing and shook his head. 

“I doubt it, look at him” He nodded in the direction of the entrance. A smiling Kyung Soo walked in their direction, arranging his tie nervously and rubbing his hand once he was done. Suddenly, she remembered him. He looked older now, in a good way. She remembered he had a child face when they were studying, now he looked way more mature. But that was all she remembered. She didn’t remember ever talking to him.

As he stood in front of them, greeting her father first, she remembered that one of the reasons Kyung Soo got that nickname was because he was very popular. She remembered that his popularity was related to the fact that he was very handsome. And he still was. Now even more.

Her memories of him weren’t a lot. She never really looked at him twice because he was kind of a slut, and that made him already a very unattractive person for her. But now she did look twice, and it was a nice view. He was wearing a dark blue suit and a light blue shirt and a tie of the same color. His hair was perfectly arranged to make him look young but dapper. He then greeted her, shaking her hand. Apparently, her dad was about to become member number one Kyung Soo's fan club. 

“I’m thrilled to finally have you here, as a member of our family, please feel at home Kyung Soo”

“Thank you, sir, this is the first time I get such a welcoming”

“Well, it’s great to have you here son, So Min why don’t you take him to his table? I have to stay here greeting our guests, I will be there in a minute” She asked Kyung Soo to follow her and he obeyed, slightly startled. 

“My dad asked for you to sit with us, bear with him, he gets very excited whenever someone new arrives” He smiled politely at her but said nothing. 

“You will be sitting with my parents, my uncle who also works at the hospital and my husband and I” They had already reached the table where her mom was chatting with her uncle. Kyung Soo stood next to her making a face. She could describe it as surprised, although it looked like something more. 

“You…you are married?”

“Yeah” She answered with the smile that the subject brought to her face. 

“You got married? When? With who?” Those were normal questions to ask, but his tone wasn’t normal, it made her a bit defensive. 

“I got married four years ago, with my boyfriend”

“Sung Wook?” “Yeah, you know him?” He nodded, looking around the room, his lips forming a straight line.

 “Well, yeah, a married him”

“He is not here? He works at the hospital?”

“No, he doesn’t, he is a plastic surgeon, he works at the Generic Hospital, he is working now” Kyung Soo kept silent looking at her left hand. 

“Congratulations” He broke the silence sitting at the table. She stood there, not sure what to do. Her seat was next to him, but he looked kind of angry and she wasn’t looking forward to a sulking partner. They both remained silent. So Min got an unfriendly aura from him. She couldn’t understand why. He looked so cheerful when he arrived.

Once dinner was served, her dad took Kyung Soo’s attention. He looked more friendly talking to her dad. Her dad asked him everything about his internship at the Mayo Clinic and kept repeating how happy he was to have him there, after all, the Hospital was opening a pediatric intensive care unit because of his arrival. She was sure her dad was very close to call the PICU 'The Do Kyung Soo PICU’. Her dad included her in the conversation, but Kyung Soo never reached her with his words. She shouldn’t care. She was talking with him for the first time. Which was the thing that bothered her the most. Why so much hostility in a first meeting?

After the dessert, there were some speeches, some greetings, and a celebrated welcoming to the superb Pediatric Surgeon Do Kyung Soo. It shocked her to see that he could smile.

After everything was said she got a text from her husband offering her a ride. She accepted gladly. It was close to midnight, she was full of food, her heels were hurting her feet and she had patients to attend tomorrow. She bid goodbye to her parents, uncle and Kyung Soo. 

“See you tomorrow I guess” She told him to which he only nodded.

Sung Wook was waiting for her in the car. She greeted her with a kiss on the cheek when she got in. 

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes, it was nice, my dad was very happy, especially with the new surgeon, Do you remember Do Kyung Soo?” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. 

“I do, Up Skirt Kyung Soo”

“You also remember that nickname?” He laughed with her, making her heart warm. 

“I do, but it was an unfair nickname, he had a friend back then, Chanyeol, remember him? tall, big ears, he works at Bussan now, well, he told me that a girl he rejected started the rumor that he was a player, and he never bothered to deny it”

“I remember Chanyeol, so he is not upskirt…Anyway I don’t remember ever talking to him back then”

“He wasn’t very talkative” The conversation moved from Kyung Soo to the dinner party and his day at work. Once they arrived home, everything was said. They moved around their house in silence. Not comfortable silence, but a rather heavy silence. She was too conscious of the lack of conversation.

It made the time between arriving home and going to sleep incredibly long and silent. Sometimes boring.

She knew they were facing something in their relationship. She didn’t know what to call it. The camaraderie they had was gone. They didn’t fight. But they didn’t laugh either. At least not as often as they used to. She kept repeating to herself that at least they weren’t fighting, so they didn’t hate each other, they were still respectful to each other. But it didn’t make it easier.

She missed the past. Her previous relationship with Sung Wook. When she looked forward to arriving home. When he called her during his free time for a little chat about anything. A couple of months ago she gave herself an ultimatum. If things are still like this next week, we are going to couples therapy.

But that never happened.

She never had the guts to tell him so, because whenever she looked at him, he looked alright. He didn’t look worried, sad, or tired of her. He looked just like always.

So maybe the issue was only in her head.

+

When Kyung Soo saw her, he felt time stop for a long minute. He was a man of science and he knew that was impossible. But as a man of science, he knew about Premature ventricular contractions, what people called skip a beat.

And that's what happened to him when he met her.

He was in his third year, assisting one of his teachers at the physiology lab. They were going to analyze lung and heart tissue. A very simple class. His teacher asked him if he could lead the class because he was exhausted after 9 hours in the OR. Kyung Soo couldn’t say no to his tired eyes, so he moved around the lab as his teacher sat at his desk. He was talking with one of the students when he heard a loud thud and a scream. He looked to the front of the lab, and his teacher was lying on the floor unconscious. He dashed to the front, but someone beat him. One of the students kneeled next to him and began applying CPR as the other students stood in shock. He was in shock too, but not because of his teacher.

With firm arms, she pressed on his chest rhythmically, as the room went silent in fear and surprise he could hear her breathing and grunts. 

“Someone call an ambulance!” She shouted, looking at him with a frown and sweat forming on her forehead.

That’s when his heart had a premature ventricular contraction.

Thanks to her, their teacher survived the heart attack.

But Kyung Soo was sure he was developing a heart disease.

Every time he saw her, he felt a current of electricity under his skin and around his body.

With time it got more and more frustrating.

So Min wasn’t single.

She was very much in love with her boyfriend, Sung Wook. They were together most of the time, he owned her laughs and her stares. Kyung Soo was glad they were one year apart, so he didn’t have to see them together all the time. But even knowing that she wasn’t single, he kept looking at her and searching for her. He didn’t know how to explain the way he was attracted to her. She looked beautiful in his eyes, the way she walked always made him stop and look at her. He could recognize her voice in the multitude. But her words were never directed at him. And all the years they shared the same faculty they never exchanged more than a greeting. She was friendly, and very welcoming, but he was protecting himself.

He knew that a simple conversation with her could finish building the foundations of his feelings. But what use it have if she was already dating?  He knew they could still be friends, but he never liked suffering just for the feel of it.

He wasn’t that admirable.

But there were way too many opportunities for them to meet. He stopped assisting his teacher but ran into her at the voluntary work they did in small hospitals in the countryside.

It was terrible to learn that she was so giving with her time. That she was conscious of her privilege and decided to give back. She preferred to spend time with the patients of the different hospitals instead of her boyfriend.  

A year passed since he met her and every day he wished them to break up. He hated having those thoughts. Nothing, absolutely nothing assured him that even if they broke up, she would pay attention to him. She didn’t do it now, why would that change even if she was single?

++

So Min was done with that morning’s patients. Her stomach was calling for her attention, asking for food and it wanted an immediate solution. The fastest option was the coffee shop downstairs with their overpriced sandwiches. She was done selecting her lunch and dessert, about to pay, when someone slid their card in front of her. 

“Charge her order with mine please” Kyung Soo was standing next to her, smiling at the cashier. 

“You don’t have to” She tried to stop him. 

“Please let me” Since she never interacted with him back at med school she knew nothing about him. So his stare shook her when he rather ordered than asked her to accept his invitation. She couldn’t say no, it looked like he would get mad if she did. He ordered a sandwich for himself and a bottle of orange juice and they waited for the order around the counter. 

“I should be the one inviting you, as a welcoming meal” She said, crossing her arms in front of her. 

“I was the rude one last night, this is my apology”

“You don’t need to, although it was strange” Kyung Soo looked at his hands and then her. 

“I don’t have an explanation, but it wasn’t related to you, sorry,” He said, looking away. 

“Ok, as long as you don’t hate me for no reason”

“I don’t! Of course, I don’t” It made her very happy to hear that. She hated the idea of being judged and liked the idea of having another friendly colleague, so she offered her hand, so they could greet properly.

Kyung Soo stared at her hand slightly shocked. He was over his crush, but for some reason, touching her hand now sounded so incredible. Like shaking the hand of a long-time idol. He grasped her hand softly, his body language incredibly formal. But the formality was cut short when they were informed that their sandwiches were warmed up. They grabbed their food and sat at one of the few free tables.

She didn’t have hard feelings with him. He must have his reasons, and she wasn’t going to ask him what those reasons were.

He didn’t explain himself either, only apologized. Which was good enough for her. 

“So you are a General Surgeon, that’s good”

“It’s not, but thank you” He giggled almost choking with his drink. 

“Too hard?”

“I can’t complain, I knew how it was going to be, I’m lucky I have no children, and my husband is a doctor too, so he gets it” He coughed softly and took a big bite of his sandwich.

“You are a pediatric surgeon, you don’t get it easier than me”

“I don’t have children nor husband, or wife for that matter, so…” So he was free to slave himself with work. 

“Good for you Kyung Soo, how was your first day at work?”

“Good so far, a lot of doctors came to greet me, the team at the PICU is great”

“You got nurse Kim” He lit up at the name. 

“Nurse Kim Junmyeon?! Yeah, he is great”

“You took him away from me, thank you” She joked, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“At least Jae Yi, his wife, stayed with us” Kyung Soo looked at her with big round eyes, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. 

“Is everyone here married?!” The people seated around them reacted to his shout, some laughing, some a bit startled. Kyung Soo noticed the small ruckus he caused and apologized. 

“He got married a couple of months ago, he didn’t tell you? That’s weird, whenever he can, he brings up his wedding, or how his wife proposed, or how great his wife is”

“They met here?”

“Yeah, they arrived the same year, A couple of months after that I found them kissing on the stairs” She laughed at the memory, Junmyeon's cheeks red as apples, and Jae Yi laughing at his cute reaction was a fun and adorable memory. 

“The hospital is not against that kind of relationships?” So, Surgeon Do was checking his privileges as a doctor uh? 

“No, keeps the morale up I guess, As long as they don’t fight in the OR, everything is fine” He giggled again, he had an easy laugh apparently, and she was known for being funny, so they could have a good work relationship. Kyung Soo was going to ask something, but her phone interrupted him. A 40-year-old man with a broken leg and a shoulder injury had just arrived.

+++

Kyung Soo was amazed at how quickly his old crush came back.

When he finished his studies, he just never saw her again. They didn’t have the same circles of friends, both of them didn’t have social media and he never got her number.

One day he just didn’t see her anymore. And since he was so busy learning how to work in a hospital and survive as a doctor, he didn’t have time to think about her. At least not every day. And now she was there, now they were co-workers. And the crush was back, stronger than ever.

They ran into each other all the time. Their offices were on the same floor and they met often at the ER. It went from 0 to 10 pretty fast and Kyung Soo didn’t know what to do. He laughed with her, shared meals, and discussed cases with her. But always made sure to not look at her hand. Her left hand was forbidden. Luckily, she always took off her ring at work.

Kyung Soo felt weirdly happy to know that she was working in such a good environment.

People made fun of her for being the daughter of the owner of the hospital, but always in a friendly way. She always fooled around with her collages telling them that she was going to talk with her dad to get them fired.  

He was getting along with everyone too. The fact that So Min was with him really helped. She did the introductions, and before people could judge him by his serious face, the other doctors and nurses had accepted him.

He was very thankful. It was always hard for him to make a good first impression. His student life was filled with people who didn’t approach him since his stare was so particular due to his bad eyesight.

“Kyung Soo, I’m hungry!, let’s go to eat” Like a clock, So Min appeared at his door at lunch time. 

“I already ate, I have a conference in 15 minutes” He sounded maybe way too disappointed, he wanted to have a meal with her. He suspected that she could appear, but that conference was mandatory. Kyung Soo hated how quickly he learned her itinerary. She had breakfast after her morning rounds and a snack in between patients. She always finished lunch with an espresso with a lot of sugar and during the night shift, she had a meal at 9 and then another at 1 am. His knowledge was heavily centered on food because those were the times when they spent time together.

Kyung Soo hated the way he reacted to finding her again.

But loved how she was already calling him a friend.

++++

Kyung Soo enjoyed his time at the ER. It worked perfectly, the nurses were great partners and all the doctors worked with a lot of respect for their patients and their colleagues.

He was on his way to the night duty room for a 30-minute nap when he ran into So Min talking with a family. It was a bit past midnight, so she was probably just out of a surgery.

“Thank you so much Doctor Jung, thank you so much” Someone who looked like the mom held her hands as the rest bowed at her. 

“I just did my part, your daughter was also very brave, she is going to spend the night at the ICU, so you should all go home and rest”

“Doctor Jung” A man who was probably the father, spoke. 

“I wanted to thank you for giving us your services, thanks to that we are going to be able to pay for the treatment of our daughter without risking our business, thank you so much”

“Please don’t mention it, now everyone go home and rest, I’m going to check on your daughter often during the night” So Min fidgeted with her hands, growing a bit uncomfortable with so many compliments, and also looked very tired after a 5-hour surgery. He waited until the family left to walk to her. 

“Good work Doctor Jung”

“Kyung Soo, you have the night shift too?”

“Yeah, did you eat anything?” She shook her head, taking off her cap. He invited her to the lounge room for a cup of ramen and she accepted.

He prepared a ramen for her and a cup of coffee for him. He looked at her eat and when he noticed that her face looked a bit brighter, he spoke to her. 

“So Min, May I ask you something?” She said yes, slurping her noodles. 

“When was the last time you got paid for your work?” The changes in her face were so fun to watch. A bit of shock, then trying to avoid his eyes so she could come up with a good excuse, and then a bit of sassiness. 

“None of your business Kyung Soo” He didn’t need a better answer, that was a confirmation. Junmyeon and Jae Yi commented once about how she would work for free depending on the situation of the family. And once by accident he heard a family commenting on how the doctor was working for free in the surgery of their sister. 

“You are amazing” He thought out loud. 

“It’s nothing amazing, is not that big of a deal and my husband takes care of me, so I don’t need that much money” She chuckled, finishing her ramen.

And as always, every reminder about her marriage twisted his stomach.

That night at the ER was an active one. It was raining outside which translated to way too many accidents and people slipping on the streets. By morning he was tired, hungry, and for some reason cranky. Before leaving, So Min came to his office to drop off some food and wish him a good day of sleep. He wished her the same and waited until she was gone to drop on his chair with a long sigh. He wished she could be the one who made things easier for him.

When she arrived home, Sung Wook was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee between his hands. He looked tired and worried. He noticed her arrival only when she was standing in front of him. 

“Is everything ok?" She asked, bathed in fear. She had had nightmares that started like this. The tension from the past months was about to burst, she felt it. 

“I couldn’t sleep last night, we need to talk” She was speechless. Her ears were buzzing, and her hands went numb. 

“I want your opinion on something, we are married and I feel like this is a you and me issue”

“Tell me” She was able to utter those two words. 

“I was offered an opportunity to go to Switzerland for two months to do some studying, a colleague got in touch with me, and you know over there surgeons are one of the best, there are a lot of procedures that I could learn first-hand, not just through videos, I could make a lot of great connections and…” So Min interrupted him grabbing his hand across the table.

“Why are you trying to convince me? You want to do this, do it”

“Can I?”

“If you are asking for my permission, you shouldn’t, if you are asking for my opinion, which you should, my opinion is that you should do it” Sung Wook got up and came to hug her resting his chin on top of her head. It had been a long time since he hugged her like that. They kept quiet for a while. His hug wasn’t tight, and neither was hers. It was warm, it was always warm and familiar, but not tight. 

“So Min, are you sure I should go?”

“I am”

“Even with what we are going through?” Something close to horror ran down her back. This was the first time he acknowledged their distancing. That there was something that it wasn’t clicking between them. 

“If it’s an issue, I’m not going”

“Babe, you have to go, It’s a great opportunity for you…and maybe…maybe is good for us, to miss each other” He grabbed her head between his hands, looking at her warmly. 

“Thank you”

“Don’t thank me” He kissed her forehead and hugged her again before going to the bathroom and finishing getting ready for work. As she changed into her pajamas, she couldn’t shake off the thought of why he didn’t kiss her. For a couple of months now every touch he gave her was closer to what you would expect from a father or a brother. Not a lover.

He left for Berne the following week. She reprogrammed a Colostomy just so she could go with him to the airport. He finally kissed her once it was time to leave. The kiss was passionate this time, catching her by surprise. A faint spark lighted up in her chest, giving her some assurance.

His trip was probably what their marriage needed.

+++++

“It’s weird because I could tell you that it feels like I’m back to being single, but I was never single, so I don’t know how that feels”

“Are you bragging that you were so popular that you always had a boyfriend?” Jae Yi commented lifting an eyebrow, getting a giggle from her husband. 

“No, but I always had Sung Wook, I never lived alone I went from my parent's house to our house”

“I can understand that, I also went from my parents’ house to my wife’s apartment” Years had taught her to comprehend Junmyeon talking through his mouth full of food. Kyung Soo also reacted to his bad manners, rolling his eyes, bothered. 

“So as I was saying, it’s weird, but I like it…I get why young women don’t want to get married” Her joke was received by a soft giggle from Junmyeon and a concerned look from Jae Yi. She knew what was going on in her marriage. 

“You don’t cook, what are you eating?” Kyung Soo asked her. 

“Delivery and frozen” He frowned at her, she knew a bit of nagging was on her way. 

“If you are experiencing singledom for two months, learn how to cook”

“Not interested, and also, I’m here most of the time, and the meals here are great” He shook his head, looking annoyed, but she knew he was just messing with her.

That day, after a short but intense appendectomy where a nurse student faded mid-procedure, she was free and ready to go home. It was almost midnight. She went to pick up her bag at her office and found Kyung Soo waiting for her at the door. 

“Doctor! What are you doing there?”

“Are you done with work?” He followed her inside her shared office. 

“Yes, I’m done, you?”

“Same, I’m going to drive you home” Her happiness was real. She thanked him profusely and quickly grabbed her things to not make him wait.  

On their way to her house, they talked about their days and what awaited them the next day. He dropped her at her door, wished her good night, and then drove away. She got inside her house, put on some music, and drank a cup of tea in the living room, giving herself some time to relax before bed.

That first week of being alone at home was just working, resting at home, and enjoying Kyung Soo 's company at work and now after work.

++++++

Kyung Soo hated when people didn’t listen to him when he was just trying to help and also, was right. So Min was an expert doing that. She never listened to his advice. It was very charming. Telling her 'I told you so' and getting a cute gesture with her nose. Just when he arrived at her office early in the morning with coffee he heard breaking glass and a loud curse. 

“No, my favorite cup!” She cried out bringing her hands to her chest. It was probably a gift from her husband. 

“One of my patients gave it to me, she painted it herself” He smiled at that, but freaked out immediately when he saw her get on her knees to clean the broken cup. 

“So Min, I will clean it, I am wearing leather gloves” Of course she didn’t listen to him. And as he came closer to her to clean with her, he found her grabbing her finger. 

“You cut your finger didn’t you?” She pouted and showed him her index finger. She got a small, bleeding cut just on the tip of her finger. He sighed heavily, joking, and told her to sit down so he could take care of her. The cut was almost nothing, but fingers liked to bleed. He put some ointment and then a cat-themed Band-Aid. 

“You don’t have a normal one?” Kyung Soo pointed at his ID. 

“It says Pediatric there, of course I don’t have a normal one” She giggled and accepted the Band-Aid. In a moment of pure stupidity, that’s the only way he could describe it, he kept a hold of her hand, examining her wedding band. 

"I can't believe you got married" He commented, giving free will to his mouth. 

"Why is it so hard to believe?" He wished she hadn’t heard him, but how not to? They were very close, in a rather small room. He felt as if  she had just found something secret about him. 

“No, it's just you are very young” He covered up, looking down at her hand, releasing it slowly. 

“Oh I see, you are one of those who see marriage as a prison”

“Yeah, sorry” He lied. He wasn’t one of those.

He craved marriage.

That day he also drove her home. Although he had to wait for her for at least an hour. But he could never say no to spend 15 minutes with her.

He wasn’t proud of recognizing that he was taking advantage of the absence of her husband. Not only to spend more time with her but also, his absence translated into her talking way less about him.

Kyung Soo was in heaven with their short but constant interactions at work. Her presence had his feelings loose. He laughed more and also suffered a bit more, but he wasn’t a man who focused on the negative. He sought for their encounters, careful to not make her feel uncomfortable, but always ready for lunch or some rest in between duties. But all that wasn’t just because he wanted to see her because he liked her. Before arriving at this hospital he was driven by work. And if he wasn’t working, he was studying. Nothing else occupied his mind. Now it was so different. He woke up thinking about her. About what could they eat or talk about. Every day he worked on building up the nerve to ask her out for drinks but never did it. But he had waited a lot and could keep waiting. Although he wasn’t sure what was he waiting for. Her ring was still there.

+++++++

“Kyung Soo, I have a Colectomy in an hour but our resident had an emergency, and no one can assist me now, could you help me?” Kyung Soo was leaving the hospital when he got her call. He turned around quickly and jumped into the elevator. She was already at the OR preparing for the operation. 

“I’m so sorry, I could do this by myself, but I had a hard morning, so I could need some help”

“Don’t worry, it’s my pleasure, tell me about the patient” So Min informed him about the procedure as they got ready for the surgery.

She was secretly wishing to be with him in the operating room. Nurse Kim didn’t shut up about what a great surgeon he was. And also, she wanted to see if his calm manners and soft movements translated into a peaceful and efficient OR.

And it did. He assisted her very naturally, his hands were wherever she needed them, without her saying anything. Always collaborating, but never taking over.  His voice brought a lot of calm to the room and since everybody already knew him, he worked comfortably.

They finished on schedule, no small fires, and a successful surgery.

She went to inform the family about the results and then met Kyung Soo outside the recovery room. 

“Everything alright?” She asked him as he took off his mask and gloves. 

“Perfect, very beautiful suture, he is still sleeping” She thanked him for the compliment and noticed something in his face. 

“Why are your cheeks so rosy and shiny?” He jolted and looked at her completely lost. 

“They are?” He stuttered, touching his face. Jae Yi stood next to them on her way to the recovery room. 

“Yeah, we just finished surgery, why do you look like this?” She gestured shaking her hand in front of his face. 

“Pretty boy privilege” She commented to Jae Yi. 

“Your husband has the same privilege” The nurse nodded, agreeing with her friend. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Kyung Soo said, pointing at himself, incredulous. 

“Yeah, you and nurse Kim always look good no matter what, that’s pretty boy privilege” Kyung Soo bowed at them shyly, making them giggle at his cuteness. 

“Speaking about the devil, is your husband done? The four of us could go for food, on me” Jae Yi texted her husband and immediately got a response. 

“He is getting ready to leave, I’m also done, let’s meet at your office in thirty” She agreed and walked to her office. 

“Pretty boy, let’s go” So Min called Kyung Soo when she noticed that he was stuck in his spot. He looked as if he had just woken up from a dream.

In their way to her office, Kyung Soo ran into one of his patients going on a walk with her mom. She shouted Kyung Soo’s name and came to him hugging his knees tightly. 

“Bora! You are here, how’s your tummy?” The little girl lifted her pajama showing a clean bandage and a sticker of a happy face. 

“It’s ok, the happy face is still there see?”

“I see, well done” He patted her head softly and tickled her behind her ear. 

“I’m very obedient doctor, tell my mom I am, so she buys me something nice” Kyung Soo promised that he was going to, caressing the girl’s head, getting a bubbly giggle from her. She signaled him to come closer, covering her mouth, ready to share a secret with him. Kyung Soo did as she instructed and adopted a serious stand, taking the girl's secret as a serious matter. Once she was done, Kyung Soo shook her hand and patted her little shoulder with his other hand. 

“Deal Bora, we will do that” She nodded and dashed to her mom’s side. Kyung Soo stood up and waved at her as he kept walking. 

“Doctor Do!” The little girl shouted, making them both turn around. 

“Have a good night, I love you!” Kyung Soo broke into a shy laugh. His entire face transformed into this twelve-year-old child. His eyes were now crescent moons, his cheeks looked rounder and shinier than before, his lips took this adorable shape, unique and charming. He was now as adorable and huggable as his patients.

She was sure that she had seen him smile like that before. She always got a smile from him with one of her bitchy comments. But for some reason now she felt different.

So Min was stunned by his beautiful smile.

TBC

[imaginepirates]

Wanted

For @myleghasfallenasleep, who requested that I write about a non-binary pirate! reader. The reader ends up taking James into their crew after Jack leaves him with them. Because this is my first time writing a nb character, please tell me if I’ve provided accurate representation. If not, please bring it to my attention.

~3500 words

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @wordsinwinters​

~~~~~~~

          Ah Jack, you mused. Always dumping your problems on me. You’d been a friend to Jack Sparrow for years, and though you were fond of him, he never failed to dump things on you. Currently, he was leaving you with a drunken addition to your crew. You wouldn’t have minded, but as it sat, you had your suspicions about this man.

          “If I recall correctly, you’re in desperate need of men right now.” You stood with your arms crossed, staring at Jack from across your desk.

          “Not as desperate as this, lass.”

          “Why? He’s a drunk, sure, but so are you.”

          “He vomits everywhere he walks.”

          “I seem to recall you doing that on several occasions.”

          Jack grimaced. “I hoped you’d forgotten that.

          “Don’t change the subject.”

          “Fine. Bad blood. Used to be in the navy.” Jack made a face, sticking his tongue out.

          “Don’t see what difference that makes. Loads of pirates come from the navy. Do you know how bad their wages are? If they were looking for money, though, I don’t know why they��d go to you.”

          Jack pretended to take offence, but you ignored him. You’d only seen the man Jack wanted to dump on you once, when the pair had first boarded your ship. He was tall, with dark hair and piercing eyes, but he stumbled as he walked, and he looked green with sickness.

          “What’s so bad about this man that you need to get rid of him, Jack?” You were deadly serious. Jack got into all sorts of trouble with the wrong type, and you weren’t going to take on some merman, noble’s son, or warlock without knowing about it first. “I’m not getting into trouble on your account Jack. Not this time.”

          “You won’t. I promise.” He flashed you a smile, and you laughed.

          “Words are wind, Jack.”

          Jack sighed. “The problem I have with him is personal. It won’t hurt you to take him for me.”

          “Why not hand him over to Jones?” By now, you knew all about the problems Jack was having with Davy Jones. Serves you right, you thought.

          “I don’t think he’d last that long.” Seeing your unimpressed expression, he continued. “It’s not just me, love. It’s the crew.”

          “And by ‘the crew’, you mean those two you met in Port Royal?”

          “No.”

          “Lately, they’ve been involved in all your issues.” You moved around to the front of the desk, sitting on the edge. “If you won’t tell me, fine. But at least assure me that you’re not leaving me with a curse looming over my head.”

          “None.”

          “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a crew to attend to and a new member to meet.” You swept right past Jack, pushing the double doors to your cabin open wide. The fresh air was welcome in comparison to the stuffy air indoors, and the smell of salt filled the air.

          You were still at port, but you planned to leave before the day was done. Fishers on the docks called the day’s catch, and merchants sold their wares near the wharves. There was the ringing of church bells and the enticing smell of cooked meats, all reminders of the city around you. Some of your crew were carrying out tasks onboard the ship while others were out in the streets. Those in the city would be back soon enough.

          It was easy to spot the newest addition to your crew. He stood out in the crowd. His clothes were shabby, even by pirate’s standards, and he had a way of standing that indicated he was too relaxed for a naval man. Men from the navy didn’t lean casually against railings, they didn’t have beards, and they didn’t smirk. All around, you considered this man a rake.

          You approached him, leaning against the railing beside him. “Do you have a name, sailor?”

          “James,” he said, looking down at you.

          “James what?”

          “Just James.”

          “Well then, just James, welcome to the crew. I expect that as a sailor, you know what you’re doing, and I don’t want any trouble on my ship. If you have a bone to pick, wait ‘till shore leave.”

          “Yes sir.” His voice was mocking, and upon further inspection and some confusion he added, “Ma’am.”

          “Captain, will suffice. I want to see my reflection in this deck by tomorrow morning. I suggest you get to work helping.” You gestured to the crew scrubbing the deck.

          He shoved himself off the rail after taking a last look at you, grabbing a mop and soap from further down the deck. He was the type to start problems, you could tell. You could only hope he wouldn’t.

          In the coming days, you were shocked to find that he was a capable worker. Though he had a tendency to make snarky comments, he did everything that was asked of him. You were glad for it. You didn’t enjoy dealing out punishments, and you didn’t want a reason to do so. James was good at what he did; it seemed he had more years of practice than many of the other men.

          An influencing factor in his behavior was lack of alcohol. You’d taken the rum away from him within the first day and told the crew not to give him any more. James had been surprisingly willing to let the drink go. He’d looked disgusted, but you had a feeling he wasn’t disgusted with you. Disgusted with himself, more like. I would be, too, if I were vomiting everywhere and stumbling around. There was more to it, you could tell. There was a whole story in every man, but this man seemed to contain a story-and-a-half. You’d learn, someday. For now, you had to be content with what Jack had already told you.

           You surveyed the deck one day to find James helping the younger boys tie their knots. James wasn’t quick in the rigging like the children, but he was surefooted, and he was willing to teach the boys from the ropes. He was doing it then, leaned against a railing with a length of rope in hand. He was showing them how to tie it to a rail with a clove hitch. The rope was passed around, and each boy tried it for himself.

          “I see you’re teaching the boys well.” You walked up to him, watching the kids tying their knots. “I’m happy to see it.”

          “Somebody has to do it.”

          “If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

         “You’re not.”

         Ah. An officer, then? Though his coat was a good indicator of his previous station, it didn’t fit him well, and you figured it might have been stolen. Perhaps not. It would have fit someone who weighed a little more, and you figured that James had lost weight in the time he spent drinking instead of eating. “Would you like to enlighten me? I have a feeling you’re a bit more than ‘just James’.”

          He pushed off the rail. “I wouldn’t, actually.”

          “Forgive my curiosity,” you called after him. “Here, you don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to be.”

          Something sad flashed behind his eyes, and he swallowed. I don’t want to be anybody, he seemed to say.

         You’d heard that often enough. “We’ve all left someone behind us,” you assured him. “Even me.”

        He nodded and walked off, and you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. He was lost and unsure of what to do with himself. Stuck between who he had been and who he would become.

          Not two weeks later, you found him in the surgeon’s cabin, applying salve to a boy’s back. The green paste stuck to the boy’s skin with an eerie hue, but you knew it treated burns better than anything else.

          “What did I tell you about keeping a shirt on?”

          “I know, it’s hot out, is all.” The boy shifted in his seat, squirming whenever James touched his back.

          “I don’t care how hot it is. A loose shirt is better than nothing. I won’t do this for you again, so don’t rub this off,” James warned.

          The boy took little heed. “I won’t,” he said, slipping off the table and putting on a shirt.

          You were left alone in the room with James. “You really are good with kids.”

          James shrugged.

         “Maybe there’s nothing so bad about you after all. I wondered why Jack dumped you with me; he usually gives me cursed men and witches. The undead, even.” You got no reaction. “You’re not any of those things, so why would he leave you with me?”

          “I’m not wanted.”

          “You are here.” You gestured at a space outside the cabin. “The crew likes you well enough. Especially the boys. You look after them.”

          “Would that I had my own.”

          “Your own?” You briefly wondered if he had children.

          “In the navy. My last voyage, we sailed right into a hurricane. I was… one of the few survivors.”

          “I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do about a hurricane.”

          “You can avoid sailing into it.” He sounded miserable, voice thick with emotion.

          Could it be? You had a sinking suspicion you knew who the man was. That doesn’t matter now, you reminded yourself. He’s part of my crew, and he hasn’t shown any signs of treachery or ill-will. “Every man has moments they’re not proud of,” you said. He nodded tensely, and you took it as a sign to change the subject.

          “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, a few minutes later. “You dress like a man, but you seem more like a woman, if you don’t mind my saying.” He looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he continued. “I tried to discern, earlier, but…. What did you mean by ‘Captain will suffice’?”

          “I meant that I don’t identify with either of those things. I’m not a man, nor am I a woman.” You looked him in the eye, gauging his reaction.

          He looked surprised, but didn’t remark, only nodding. You left it at that, and your conversation went in other directions.

                                                               ~~~~~~~

          The thundering of canons roared across the deck. Pieces of the ship flew off where you were hit, wooden splinters the length of your arm flying in all directions. You were glad to have led your crew in gunnery drills; they might have died without them. You survaid the deck, watching each gunning team load and fire. Smoke clogged the air between ships, but you still had a good view of your opponent.

          A Spanish brig had appeared on the horizon not hours before, a pirate vessel from the Cuban area. You didn’t like fighting other pirates; firstly, it was a better cause to fight the navy; and secondly, pirates were ruthless in a way others were not. You never knew what tricks pirates might use on you, even as a pirate yourself. There was always some curse or new technology that you found yourself facing, putting you at a disadvantage. You didn’t have the luxury of magic aboard your vessel.

          The sails of the ship were a dramatic red, and a dark squid adorned their pirate flag. The ship was beautifully painted, but that was all you could say for it. There was an air of wealth about it that had probably served it well in Spain, though perhaps less well in the Caribbean. Though it might look intimidating and well-styled to a merchantman, it was only a brig, and was thus lightly armed. Brigs were common pirating vessels, but not in the Caribbean. The New World demanded tougher stock.

         You had the advantage of guns, but no fight was to be downplayed. You could have had all the guns in the world, but you’d still be careful about every move you made. There was always room for something to go wrong.

          A cannonball hit the railing next to you, destroying it in a shower of wood. Stop blowing holes in my ship! You hated having to make repairs, but you’d have to, in this case. When you looked out at the deck again, you were glad to see that none of your crew seemed seriously injured. A few had shrapnel stuck in various places, but nobody looked to have stomach or head wounds.

          You boarded the Spanish ship not long after. They’d been ambitious to fight you, and by the look of their rich clothes and shimmering jewelry, they had money. You smiled to yourself through the fighting. You still had to win the deck fight, but you were confident that you would. Then, it would be smooth sailing with a ship loaded down with gold.

         The glint of light on metal shook you from your thoughts, and you raised your sword to block a blow from your side. After dispatching your attacker, you took a look around. It was hard to tell your men from theirs, but you caught a glimpse of James fending off two adversaries. You might have gone to help him, but you were soon caught up in a fight of your own.

          The deck fight didn’t take long; twenty minutes at most. With the fight won, you ordered that the other crew be split between the brigs of both ships for the time being. You wouldn’t keep them as prisoners forever, but you needed to subjugate them for the moment. You met the opposing captain on the deck of his ship.

         The captain looked up at you from his knees, his eyes screaming malice. Lace spilled from the sleeves and collar of his coat, which were the same wine red as his sails. A gold earring hung from one ear, and colored powders adorned his face. You found him almost comical- the stereotype of a wealthy pirate. It was so unrealistic, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Obviously, the man hadn’t known the true lifestyle going in.

          Someone had to remove his sword belt and give it to you; he wouldn’t do it himself. You were half tempted to pitch him overboard for his arrogance. It wasn’t like he had much to be proud of. Sure, he had a beautiful ship, but it’d hardly lasted a half hour against your assault. Your boarding party had made short work of his crew. Those that were left were easily subdued, and you ordered that they be taken to the brigs of both ships.

          You put your first mate in charge of the other ship. You were proud to have a little fleet, no matter how small. The thought made you smile. Eventually, you had the captain sent away too, though you’d have to speak with him later. Just the notion of having to talk with the man dampened your mood. He probably wasn’t the most respectful type.

          Exhaustion took over, not letting you dwell on it. The fight had been fast, but hard, and you were ready for a moment of rest. You climbed the stairs to the helm and sat down by it, barely registering the person sitting next to you. You were asleep within minutes.

          When you woke, you found your head resting on someone’s shoulder. You sat up to find James next to you, an amused smile on his face.

          “I was wondering when you’d wake up,” he teased. “You slept for a while.”

          You blushed, not quite sure how to respond. “Did I wake you up?”           “No, don’t worry. I’ve only been awake a few minutes.”

          You couldn’t tell if he was speaking the truth, but you didn’t press, instead changing the subject. “Are you alright? I hardly saw you during the fight.”

          “I’m fine. And you?”

          “Right as rain.”

          “Your men are enjoying the victory.”

          “Are you?” You asked. “You’re one of them.”

          James stared a moment before answering, turning his away from you and towards the sea.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a victory over a ship. Months. Fighting pirates is an odd thing, when you’re one of them. Still, it reminds me of… simpler times.” His lips turned down in a tight frown.

         You laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t dwell on it too much. Come with me, will you? I have a captain to talk to, and I don’t think he’s going to make for amiable conversation.”

          You made your way down to the brig. The captain and his mates were being held in one cell together, the rest of their crew being split between cells. You treated them with every hospitality you could give them, helping treat their wounded and providing them with food and water. This, however, was too little to keep their captain satisfied. Your men had informed you that the captain mocked you for not talking to him. He called it cowardice, apparently. It mattered little and less to you, but you had to speak with him at one point or another. It was only courteous.

          You gave a nod to one of your guards, and the cell door swung open. The captain was ushered out, unshackled. He posed no threat as a single man; even if he tried to attack you, you could easily overpower him. After all, he didn’t have a sword.

          “So, you finally deem me worthy of your attention,” he drawled. His accent was exaggerated enough to make you roll your eyes. He spat, though he had enough sense not to spit towards you. Still, the insult was clear.

          “I attend to my own men before I see to anyone else’s. With my crew taken care of, you have all my attention.” You could already tell the conversation would be riddled with insults, though none of them would be clever.

          “Seeing to your men is admirable,” said the captain, “though I can’t tell with you: you dress like a man, but there’s a little woman to you, too.” He smirked.

          “They are a captain and you will call them such.” James stopped dead in his tracks, reaching out to grab the man’s arm. Though the captain tried to pull away, James’ grip was iron. “Remember your place.”

          Fear flashed across the captain’s face, but only for a moment. “I’m shocked to hear you say that, Commodore. After all, your place has changed so much.”

          Your hand flashed out, striking the man hard across the face.

          “How dare you?” he screeched. “I am a captain!”

          “Not anymore,” you said dryly. “You’re nothing more than I make of you, and now I’m considering turning you into mincemeat. You might consider being more careful with your words. I would have asked for your name, but I don’t think you’re worth knowing. Perhaps more time in the brig will see to your behavior.”

          The Spaniard protested the entire way, but he was quickly shut in with his officers again, and you set a brisk pace back to your cabin. James followed you, and you let him. Once you got to your cabin, you slumped into a chair. You were thoroughly disgusted by your encounter, but you knew it meant nothing. The man was arrogant, that was all. And James was the infamous Commodore that hunted pirates for years.

          That didn’t matter now, either. James was kind to you, and he was good with the crew. His past was just that- his past.

          “You didn’t have to defend me.” You filled a cup with brandy. “I could’ve done it myself.”

          “You shouldn’t have to. And I owe you. You were right, in the surgeon’s cabin; I’m wanted here. I owe you for that, at least. You kept me when nobody else would.”

          “Don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

          He sucked in a breath. “And I’m sorry for not telling you who I was.”

          “I understand,” you said. “It doesn’t make me trust you any less, and it doesn’t make you any less wanted. I can look beyond a man’s past.” You rose from your seat, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

          “I think I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me.”

          You were surprised, at first, that he didn’t want to return to his old life. That he didn’t have any ambitions to be the man he used to be. He doesn’t want power, you reminded yourself. He wants company. “Of course.“

          “Thank you.” Hesitantly, he grabbed your hand, lifting it to place a soft kiss to your knuckles.

          For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, cupping his cheeks, you kissed him softly, embarrassed that you would even think of kissing him, let alone do it. He returned the favor sweetly. He kissed you a bit harder, making you squeak.

          “Perhaps you’re just as much of a rascal as I initially thought,” you told him, smiling.

          “Maybe I am.” He wore an infuriating smirk.

          You pushed him away playfully, only to pull him right back. “If you were still wondering, James, you’re wanted here. Thoroughly.”

[queenbirbs]

on vengeful seas | Edward Mortemer x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x Elena McTavish

Summary: Another way the night on the Admiral’s ship could have gone. 

Word count: 7.1k+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: violence, violence against women, mentions of blood, mild (?) torture, sexual harassment, suggestive themes

Note: PB writes the admiral as “the Admiral” when referencing him, which is why I’ve chosen to keep up with that style here. 

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Elena wonders how she’s going to explain all of this to Edward. 

She’s sure this wasn’t what he meant by ‘being careful,’ if the glower on the Admiral’s face is anything to go off. It’s hard to keep a straight face, though, what with the wine still dripping from his stupid fucking hat. If he’s such a stickler for etiquette as Oliver claims, why didn’t he take it off when dining with a lady? How disappointed Emily Post would be with him. 

“A display like that, Miss McTavish, warrants a night in the brig.” Picking up a handkerchief, he wipes at his face. A smirk appears when he lowers the cloth. “But we can’t have you and your captain consorting more than you already have. Don’t think we missed that poignant scene between the two of you earlier.”

Her breath feels trapped in her chest. Had he heard their plans? “Take her to the deck.”

Two officers lead her up and out onto the ship. This early in the evening, a few soldiers are still about, adjusting the rigging and sharing a drink. Edward is no longer there, having been returned to the brig while she was mapping out the compass’s location. She can only hope that the Admiral kept his word about having the surgeon look after him. 

“Oi!” one of the officer’s shouts from near the helm. “That’s my wife’s dress!” 

Elena bristles at the shout and searches the deck for Oliver -- who hovers near the group of soldiers, a grimace on his face. 

Liar, she mouths at him, and watches the grimace fold into a sheepish frown. 

“Why’s this pirate scum wearin’ it?”  

“Miss McTavish,” the Admiral croons from behind her, “please return Office Robinson’s present for his lovely wife.” 

“I’ll need my clothes, then,” she tells him. 

“Of course! Lieutenant, fetch her things.”

“Aye, Admiral.” 

Oliver disappears below deck, leaving Elena without even a semi-friendly face. The merriment turns to interest as the men all watch the Admiral circle her like a vulture. He drags his gaze up her form, slow and calculated. Klaxon bells sound in her head. 

“The dress does look lovely on you. I can see how Edward fell for you. It’s a shame, really, your beauty being wasted on a lowlife such as him.” 

He reaches out and runs a hand through her hair, grinning when she slaps him away. 

“You have no right to touch me.”

“You’re a pirate, girl -- you have no rights!” he declares with a boisterous laugh. 

The soldiers and officers join in, shouting lewd comments at her. Footsteps on the stairs signal Oliver’s return, her clothes draped over his arm. He glances around in confusion at the leering grins as he approaches. 

“You can change in the first--”

“She’ll change here,” the Admiral declares. “Robinson can’t afford her ruining the dress any further, can he?”

Elena blanches at the order. So does Oliver, whose eyes grow wide under the choppy strands of his blonde hair. 

“But, sir--”

“Fuck you,” she spits at the Admiral. “I’m not live entertainment for you and your--”

“Do I need to bring poor Edward up from the brig and flog him for your disobedience?”

“You promised to leave him--”

“Ah, but not until I had retrieved the compass. Until then, his health and well-being rely on you.”

Her gaze darts from his smarmy grin to the circle of approaching officers to Oliver’s pained expression. The realization, when it comes, is cold. The only person who would stand up for her is locked down below. There is no way out. 

Steadying her trembling jaw, she lifts her chin and sucks in a breath. 

“Fine.” 

Stepping forward, she feigns to take the clothes from Oliver’s arm and instead pulls his sword from its holster. With a flick of the wrist, she runs the blade up along the dress’s bodice. The silk parts like butter; the golden embroidery tears and the seams rend apart. Tossing the sword at Oliver’s feet, she steps out of the puddle of fabric and kicks it towards the Admiral. “Here’s your dress back, you fucking perverts.”

The men bellow and cheer, whistling at the sight of her near state of undress. She’s thankful she had the foresight to keep her bra and pants on under the dress, if in need of a quick getaway. Swimming in that tent would’ve been a death sentence.  

Elena snatches her shirt and waistcoat from Oliver, but the sharp edge of a blade at her neck makes her freeze in place. 

“You are going to learn rather quickly, Miss McTavish, that your actions have consequences.” The Admiral’s other hand clenches tight around her shoulder. “Tie her to the mast!”

“Wait -- Admiral, please--” Oliver tries to protest as two officers yank her arms behind her back and drag her towards the main mast.

“This is my ship, Lieutenant, and I will run it how I see fit!” the Admiral barks. “See that you return to your own.” 

Elena locks desperate eyes with Oliver, silently begging him to intervene. Whatever small sliver of trust she held with him, though, dissipates when she watches him turn his back and walk away. Despite her struggling attempts, the two officers keep their hold on her as they slam her back against the mast. Forcing her to her knees, they secure her arms back around the pole and tie her wrists together with a length of rope. She wrestles forward, testing her bonds, but they hold tight. 

“You should appreciate that I’m not flogging you. Instead, I think a night out on deck will suffice.” 

Picking up her clothes, the Admiral stops a few feet in front of her and drops them onto the deck. She has an idea, now, of who put the bucket outside of Edward’s cell. “Do try to get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Rot in hell,” she seethes, but he’s already moving away towards Officer Robinson, who’s come down to watch the spectacle. 

“Do you smell a storm approaching, Robinson?”

“Aye, sir, I do.”

“A shame for those caught out in the elements, then.”

Though she expects them to stick around and rough her up a bit more, they thankfully walk away and disappear below deck. The soldiers return to their posts, only interacting with her when they pass by with taunts and rude gestures. Despite the three-hundred some-odd years between now and her time, it’s all comments she’s heard since the age of ten. Nothing new under the sun, and all that. 

She keeps quiet, though, even as rage boils inside of her. Years of experience tell her that it’s her best shot to get them to leave her alone. The rain does a lot of the work for her. 

It starts a half-hour later, driving away some of the soldiers back down to their bunks. Elena shifts to sit on her ass with her head bent, trying to shield herself with the sails and rigging. 

Usually a brief respite from the humid climate, the rain is cold on the bare skin of her shoulders and torso. With the strong winds this far out at sea, the rain is sharp, pricking her like needles. Her body shivers in protest. She tries to use her long hair as a makeshift shawl, but the blonde strands are soon soaked through, acting as nothing more than a damp weight on her chilled skin.  

Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watches the soldiers. Watches them point and laugh at her for the first hour, until they assume her asleep. Watches them move about the ship, carrying down what supplies they can with the slippery deck.

They chatter about wiping the sea clean of a few more pirates, of glory to His Majesty, of breaking out the good rum when they watch Captain Mortemer get what’s coming to him. They argue over a barrel of gunpowder, eventually deciding not to bother moving it downstairs, and tuck it away near the starboard side.

The storm continues up until dawn. The sky turns from that deepest blue to a hazy gray, muddled here and there with streaks of pink as the rain finally moves on to the north. Elena knows because she stays awake the entire night, fighting the pull of unconsciousness, unable to sleep with the enemy so close. Her body had stopped shivering hours ago, too tired to try and warm itself up. If she hadn’t kept track of the men all night, she would’ve thought they’d chopped off her hands at some point -- she can no longer feel them, and isn’t even sure that her fingers are moving when she tries flexing them.

Sometime after the sun has breached the horizon, there is the sound of boots on the deck nearby. 

“Up and at ‘em, hedge whore.” 

A sharp kick to her ribs ruins her attempt to play possum. Her moan of pain is lost under her coughing fit, which jostles her sore body. She curls forward, trying to avoid another kick. Officer Robinson smirks down at her from where he looms above her, a mug in his hand. “Admiral says to give you your breakfast.”

Panic seizes her. Before she can move to protect herself, he tips the mug over. 

Hot coffee splashes down onto her. A scream tears free as fire scorches down her back, raking its claws along her skin. She can feel her vocal chords burning and her mouth moving, but she can’t hear herself; there is only the rush of blood in her ears, blocking out all other sounds. Officer Robinson’s mouth parts to laugh at her. Nearby soldiers join in.

Minutes pass, though they feel like hours, and the searing pain becomes a throbbing ache. The coffee feels like a brand, burnt into her skin. Despite cursing it all night, she pleads for the rain to come back. The cold, morning winds are her only source of relief.

“Where is she? What have you bastards done with her!?” Edward’s voice booms across the deck.

Elena’s head snaps up. A group of officers surround him, making it difficult for her to get his attention from her bound position. She doesn’t have to try very hard, though -- because the men begin to move out of the way, letting him get a good look at her. His scowl disappears in an instant; his jaw drops, abject horror paling his face. 

“Elena!” he shouts, struggling to free himself. “You vile, savage -- if you’ve hurt her, I swear--”

“You’ll do what? Let us put another hole in yer side?” one of the soldiers taunts. The rest of them erupt into laughter. 

“She gave us a good show, your lass!” a man shouts from the helm. 

“We didn’t do nuthin’, boy,” the officer holding him scoffs. “Go on, see for yerself.” 

They shove him forward. Edward crosses the deck in two strides; dropping to his knees in front of her, he cups her cheek and brushes the mangled curtain of her hair over her shoulder. His gaze sweeps over her, but it’s nothing like before, down in the brig. The heat in his eyes is stoked only by fury. 

“Your back,” he hisses. “What did they do to--”

“It’s not important right now. Edward, listen to me--”

“They harmed you. There is nothing more important.” 

“Officers,” comes Oliver’s voice from behind them, “what is the meaning of this?”

The comradery ceases. The crew stands at attention, trying to hide their choked laughter behind coughs. 

“Cut her loose,” Edward demands.  

Footsteps sound across the planks, coming closer and closer, before a hand grabs both of hers and tugs. Elena jerks away in surprise and the rope digs deeper into her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver murmurs from behind her. “To cut this, I have to…” he trails off, the words lost under the sound of sawing. 

The rope gives way and falls to the deck. Vicious, stabbing pain shoots up her arms and along her back as her abused muscles move and stretch for the first time in hours. Tears spill from her eyes, but before she can figure out how to hide them, Edward’s thumb brushes them away. 

“Here.” He picks up her blouse and helps her slip into it, mindful of the burns on her back and the lacerations around her wrists. 

“I think I’ll… pass on the corset,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat.

Oliver crosses to the group of soldiers to berate them on her condition. Elena waits until he’s out of earshot to speak again. “Edward, listen to me. There is no prisoner transfer. The Admiral plans on sinking the Revenge. They’re sailing right into a trap. You have to warn the crew.”

Edward’s hands, which had been running gently up and down her arms to warm her back up, freeze. 

“Damnation,” he spits, shaking his head. “Aye, I will. But you, you’re in no shape to fight your way--”

“I didn’t say we.” Her downcast eyes flicker up, briefly, to catch his before returning to her injured wrists. “I said you.”

“I will not leave you behind.”

“We have no other choice. I’ll distract them--”

His hand cups her jaw and tilts her head up to meet his determined gaze. “Banish the thought, Miss McTavish. I won’t hear--”

She reaches up and yanks his hand from her face, squeezing his fingers to silence him. 

“Stop interrupting and listen to me. There’s gunpowder over there, near the starboard beam. They made a big fuss about keeping it out of the rain. It’s the small barrell, with--”

“Aye, I know what a powder keg looks like.”

“And I’ve watched too many BBC documentaries to know that they put it too close to the ship’s center. If it goes off, the explosion just might reach the lower levels.”

It’s a sign of how much time he’s spent with her that he doesn’t even question the odd reference she makes. 

“I imagine you have some idea of how I’m to set it off in the first place.”

“I’ll get Oliver close enough for you to grab his pistol.” 

Edward grimaces, but clenches his jaw and nods. There’s the captain she needs right now. Stretching up to feign another look at her back, he scans the deck and spots their escape. 

“I want you in the jolly boat when that keg goes up, hear me?” He tucks her hair back so she can see the boat hanging from the port’s davits, ready for launch. 

“Only if you’re in it with me.”

“Officers,” the Admiral bellows from behind them, “why is our prisoner not restrained?”

The men scramble forward and seize Edward, ignoring his growled threats as he fights to get loose. Coming to stand beside Elena, the Admiral casts an eye over her ragged frame. A slow smirk slithers across his face; she suppresses the shiver that wants to crawl up her spine, knowing without a doubt that his plans with her aren’t finished. He clamps a hand around her arm and hauls her to her feet, ignoring her yelp of pain as the stiff muscles are forced to work.  

“What’s the status of our merry band of misfits?”  

“They’re due east, sir!” the man from the crow’s nest calls down. “‘Bout fifteen minutes out.” 

With the morning sun blazing white-hot behind it, the Revenge is a black dot on the horizon. 

“Good!” The Admiral turns his wicked grin to Edward. “That gives me just enough time to let you in on my little secret. You see, I’ve no intention of handing you back. You’re going to watch as I turn your ship into nothing more than splinters. After that, I’ll have the distinct pleasure of cutting off your head and sticking it on the bowsprit, as a warning to your kind.”

“Get on with it, then,” Edward snaps. “Tell your officers to stand down and let us duel, man-to-man.” 

“Oh, we’ll get there, have no fear. But I think you’ll be begging me to end your sorry excuse of a life. Because before I do that, I’ll see to it that Miss McTavish here gets to experience the true pirate treatment.” He runs a hand over her hair as if petting an animal, and chuckles when she squirms away from his touch. “She’ll be bound and gagged, her legs wrapped with chain shot. Then she’ll be tossed overboard to join the rest of your crew at the bottom of the sea.” 

“Your fight is with me, Cochrane, not with her.” Edward’s glare burns hot against the rising sun. “Leave her be.”

“And what say you, Miss McTavish?” the Admiral hums, a sick delight brightening his face as hers flushes red with rage.  

“I’d like to see you try,” she snarls. 

Oliver, having had enough of waiting in the wings, finally steps forward. “Admiral, sir, the Revenge -- she’s got a child aboard.”

“A pirate’s a pirate, no matter the age!” shouts one of the officers. 

“If we don’t exterminate them now, we’ll just have to do it once they grow up, Lieutenant.”

“You fucking bastard--” Elena keens at the agonizing sensation of the Admiral’s fingers digging into her back. 

“I forgot to ask.” He dips his head to drag his lips against her ear. “Did you enjoy breakfast, Miss McTavish?” 

“Go fuck yourself.” She curls forward and then throws her head back. Victory sweeps through her at the tell-tale crunch of cartilage, urging her on.  

“Insolent--”

She turns and spits in his face, now bloodied from his broken nose. He sweeps a hand out and captures her by the throat. Slamming her back against the mast, he growls out a curse and tightens his grip. Elena claws at his face, managing to draw in enough air to scream.

“Oliver!” she cries out, putting as much emotion as she can behind it. 

There’s a flash of blue and blonde and then suddenly, the Admiral is ripped away and thrown to the deck.   

“Elena, are you--” 

She slams a fist across Oliver’s jaw. He stumbles and she snags his pistol from his belt, tossing it to Edward. Spinning on her heel, she sprints towards the jolly boat as Edward takes aim and fires. 

The powder keg explodes, blasting a hole through the deck. Wooden shards fly across the ship and embed into the officers. A chain of explosions echoes up from below. The ship groans, listing to the starboard as water rushes into the hull.

“Abandon ship!” Oliver roars. 

Soldiers slide and tumble across the tilting deck, trying to reach the jolly boats stacked for launch. One man snags Elena’s blouse and yanks her back, his sword raised to strike her down. Using the momentum, she slams her shoulder into his chest and knocks him back into a crate. “Elena!” 

She jerks her head up to see a runaway train of supplies rushing towards her. Before she can jump out of the way, a strong arm wraps around her waist and hoists her up onto the railing. 

“Cheater,” she mutters. 

Edward lets go of the rope and shakes his head at her. She doesn’t miss the pained wince he makes as he holds his injured shoulder.     

“I told you to be in the boat,” he chides.

“I would have a smartass remark if I weren’t so terrified of going down with the ship.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

He helps her over the railing net and into the jolly boat before swinging himself over. The ship quakes as water floods the lower levels; the hull gives way to the sea with a loud crack. Soldiers race to the bow to leap off, avoiding the downward surge of water near the ship’s center. Elena grapples with the davit to launch the boat down while Edward fends off the desperate men looking for a safer way off.  

“Anytime now, Miss McTavish!” he shouts, hauling a particularly determined man over the netting just to toss him down into the water. 

“I’m trying! I just can’t get the damn thing to--”

The Admiral surges over the netting and swings his sword through one of the davit’s ropes. The boat drops, suspended on one end by a single rope. Elena grabs hold of a thwart and hangs there, searching below for Edward. 

His left hand clenches tight along the bow. The breath of relief catches in her chest when he looks up to meet her gaze, desperation warring with the agony of his injured shoulder. Elena pries one hand loose and offers it to him. Her fingertips barely brush the tops of his knuckles. 

“Give me your other hand!” she cries. 

“Elena--” he bares his teeth, “I cannot--”

His fingers slip from their hold and he falls. The sea closes over him like a watery shroud. 

Elena screams his name, frantically scanning the surface for him, when a fist wraps around her hair. The Admiral drags her back onto the ship, trapping her from escape with a boot on her chest. 

“Alack, Miss McTavish, you should’ve let go when you had the chance!” the Admiral shouts above the din of his men’s cries. Blood covers his chin and neck from his ruined nose, coating his teeth where he grins. The ship lurches again and water roars as it gushes up onto the deck. “My sword will not be so kind to--”

Elena cocks her arm back and slams a fist into his crotch. Blood sprays over her in a mist as he coughs, choking on his own spittle. His hands go to cup his manhood; she grabs his sword as it falls.  

“That’s for Edward.” 

Rolling out from under his weakened hold, she springs up and steadies herself by wrapping one hand around the netting. The other adjusts her hold on the sword’s grip. 

She lunges. 

The blade drives into his shoulder, spearing through flesh and sinew. The Admiral howls, collapsing onto the deck. With a jerk of her arm, she twists the blade for good measure. “And that’s for all the innocent people you had murdered. Hell is too good a place for you, but enjoy it all the same.” 

With a sharp tug, the sword slides free from him. Uselessly grabbing at the wound, he manages to clench his jaw and open his mouth to speak. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a last word, Elena brings her knee up and knocks him backward across the deck. The blood and brine slicken the planks, making it impossible for him to stop his descent as the rushing water drags him under. 

Tucking the bloodied sword away, Elena scrambles over the railing and dives off the ship. The water is cold, though not as cold as the last time she leapt into it of her own volition. Kicking her legs, she swims up towards the sunlight and breaks the surface. 

“Edward!” she screams, trying to be heard above the men in the water. 

Swimming away from the sinking vessel, she heads towards the sun. If she can make it past the flurry of men all headed west, towards Oliver’s ship, she might be able to find him. Surely he didn’t pick a fight with anyone in the water, right? She rolled her eyes as she dipped underneath a wave to avoid another cluster of officers. Of course he would. 

But she had faith he would win, at the very least. 

“Edward!” she tries again when she breaks the surface. 

The Admiral’s ship groans as it finally relents to the sea; the masts snap apart like twigs as they hit the water. 

“Miss -- Miss McTavish!” Edward’s voice echoes from somewhere beyond her sight.

Elena paddles in a circle and keeps her head above the waves, scanning for that flash of red shirt amongst the sea of blue. Then: a lone arm, waving a sword back and forth as if it were a flag. She surges forward, riding the current as it pulls her farther out to sea and closer to her captain. 

He appears just over the next wave, clinging to a chunk of wood and heaving a sigh of relief. 

“You have no idea how pleased I am to see you safe, Miss McTavish.”

“Really?” she sputters. “We just blew up a navy ship and nearly drowned and you’re keeping up your pretenses?” 

“You’ve been living amongst pirates for some weeks now, haven’t you learned? There’s always time for etiquette.”

Matching grins spread across their faces. They both burst into laughter at the horrible joke, adrenaline singing in their veins. Edward motions her to come closer and helps her up onto the wood. When he starts to slide off, she grabs his coat sleeve. 

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve seen this movie. Get up here with me, there’s plenty of room.”

“I do not think--”

“Get your ass back up here, Captain.”

Edward heaves out a sigh, but relents to her demands and hauls himself back onto their makeshift flotation device. “There we go,” she says. “See, now I don’t have to watch you freeze to death, or throw a ten-thousand dollar necklace into the ocean.”

“I’m going to blame our current predicament on the nonsense yer spouting.”

Elena shifts to get more comfortable and shrugs. “That’s fine.”

They both watch the Admiral’s ship disappear beneath the waves, the floating debris the only proof it was ever there at all. In the distance, men are being brought aboard Oliver’s ship. “Should we worry about them?”

“Nay, I think not.” Edward’s mouth dips down to one side. “At least, not right now. They won’t want to risk us pulling the same stunt on their ship, I imagine.”

“Good. But what about Henry?”

“We’ll get him back, don’t badge. The Admiral may not have been the reasoning sort, but the lieutenant seems to be. Especially when it comes to you.” 

Within twenty minutes, the ship weighs anchor and releases the sails. Soon enough, the Revenge -- having been circling about on the horizon -- starts towards them.

“I owe you an apology.”

Elena tears her gaze from the Revenge to him. He won’t look at her, though. Instead, he feigns interest in watching Oliver’s ship disappear to the north. 

“What for?” she asks.

“For promising you safety from the Admiral and letting him put his hands on you anyway.”

“You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. I could’ve played along and not stirred the pot, but I didn’t.”

“That is no reason for him to--”

“I know it’s not.” 

She reaches across to put her hand on top of his. Elena’s breath empties out of her with a sigh when he turns his palm up and laces his fingers through hers and squeezes tight. “Well, you can be rest assured that he won’t be putting his hands on me, or you, or anybody else ever again.”

A noise of surprise sounds from his throat. 

“He’s dead?”

“I punched him in the dick and stole his sword and stabbed him. So, yeah, I guess. And if I didn’t, then the blood loss or water in his lungs would’ve finished the job.”

“And you are…”

“Freaking out a little about it, yeah,” she admits, angry at the way her hands have started to shake. “I put on a brave face and sent him off with a real Indiana Jones-worthy one-liner and… and I know you don’t know what that is but--”

“Elena--”

Shaking her head at him, she continues: “--but, and I mean, I know how horrible of a person he was, and all the people he had killed, and the countless others like you he took advantage of, but I still…”

“...killed a man,” he finishes for her.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t lie to you. It is never easy. But if some part of you did not feel this way, then that would be far more worrisome.”

Tears fall from her eyes, but he’s too far to wipe them away this time. He settles for turning her hand over and pressing kisses to her palm, mindful of the rope burn around her wrists.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s rather odd to thank you for… something like that. But I am grateful to you, as well, for saving me. I owe you my life.”

“Yeah,” she says, lifting her head up to grin at him, “you kinda do.”

Edward chuckles and enjoys seeing her nose wrinkle with her own laughter. “You can pay me back by giving me a proper kiss.”

“Here?” he asks.

“Well, yeah. Unless there’s another floating hunk of wood you think would be a better--”

Pulling himself up, he crosses the distance between them and pays his debt. Her lips are dry and rough, evidence of their captivity, and tasting of saltwater and some delicious flavor that could only be her. When she parts for air, he takes his own and then returns for another kiss. She whines, sweet and high, when he parts her lips for a better taste. Her fingers curl around the wet strands of his dark hair and tug, urging him on and on. 

“You two need anotha minute or are you ready to come aboard?” Charlie’s voice echoes down to them. 

They ease apart and share a heated glance before slipping off their raft. The crew leans down over the railing, hollering their relief at finding them alive and in one piece. Jonas releases the rope ladder and Edward grabs the first rung, motioning for Elena to go first. Ginny hangs off Ax’s arm, jumping up and down as she waves to them 

“We saw the ship explode!” she calls down.

“Aye, that was Miss McTavish’s idea.” 

“Brilliant!” Ginny declares with a beaming smile.

“Isn’t she, though?” 

“Oi, where’s Henry? He didn’t…” Maggie trails off, frowning out towards the open water where the Admiral’s ship went down.

Jonas and Charlie help Elena over and onto the deck, both of them catching her stifled cry when her back brushes against the railing.

“No, no, he’s on the lieutenant’s ship,” Edward explains as he throws a leg over onto his ship. “We’ll fetch him back, have no fear.”

“He’ll be spittin’ mad that he missed all the action,” Jonas declares.

“He’ll be dancin’ the hempen jig once we rescue him and I punish him for such a stunt.”

“We were watchin’ you through the spyglass!” Ginny exclaims, still bouncing from foot to foot with joy. Ada rushes over with blankets and when Jonas moves to help distribute the supplies among the two, Ginny darts in and throws her arms around Elena’s waist. “I’m so glad you guys are okay!” 

Biting down on her cheek to distract herself from the pain, Elena’s lungs stutter against the familiar burning sensation along her back. With the rush of adrenaline long gone, Ginny’s thin arms feel like hot, metal bands. 

“Step back, Ginny,” Edward orders, then, in a softer tone, adds, “Please. Miss McTavish has some… injuries.”

She leaps back, her brown eyes filling with tears. Elena’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach at the guilty expression on her face. 

“I’m sorry -- I didn’t -- I’m sorry, Elena, I--”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” she assures, crouching down to meet Ginny at her level. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know. Besides, a hug from you is the world’s best medicine.”

Ginny wipes away the unshed tears in her eyes. 

“Yer just sayin’ that.”

“Only because it’s true,” she counters. “Now, can I give you a hug back?”

She nods; Elena gathers her into her arms and squeezes her tight, ignoring the prickle of her injured skin. There’s movement behind her: Charlie, gently plucking the collar of her shirt back to have a look. 

“Oh, love,” Charlie breathes out, “what’d they--”

“I have some salve from when we went to the apothecary,” Elena not-so-subtly interrupts. “Could you get it for me, please? And Edward, he needs--”

“The ship’s surgeon looked after me,” he says. 

“Yeah, like half a day ago,” she scoffs.

Charlie and Ada disappear down below before returning with her salve and the meager medical supplies. What Elena wouldn’t give for clean gauze and basic antibiotic ointment. And tampons, which she’d lamented to Charlie on more than one occasion. 

“C’mon,” Elena tucks her arm through his, “I’ll play Hawkeye.”

Gathering her against his side, he heads for the privacy of his cabin to tend to their wounds.

“Are these references of yours ever going to pertain to the current day?” he wonders aloud.

“Don’t hold your breath, Major Houlihan.”

Inside the cabin, he guides her to his bed and sits her down. 

“Ah, ah -- gentlemen first this time.”

“As I stated before, I was tended to--”

“Stop arguing and start stripping,” she orders, wishing that crossing her arms didn’t pull at the taut skin of her back. 

With a disgruntled sigh, Edward tosses off his coat and unbuttons his shirt. Despite their dip in the ocean, the bandages somehow look cleaner than before. She focuses on that, and wonders if the surgeon did more than a quick look-see. She does not focus on the fact that she’s alone with shirtless Edward in his cabin (and boy, how her late-night fantasies didn’t hold a candle to the sight of him now). 

“There’s that wrinkle again,” he murmurs, reaching between them to run a fingertip across her forehead. “Are ye thinking of home?”

“No.” 

She’s surprised by her own honesty, but finds that it’s true -- she isn’t thinking of home. In fact, she realizes with a gnawing sensation in her chest, she hasn’t thought about home all day. Every minute of her night out on the deck was spent planning revenge and worrying about Edward and worrying about the crew and listening for soldiers getting too close -- and then there was no time to think at all. “No, I was… thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“Aye,” she mimics, “you.” Before she can manage to embarrass herself by showing all of her cards, Elena clears her throat. “I was thinking about what horrors I was going to find when I peeked under that bandage.”

Snorting at the dramatics, he tugs the dressing aside and makes his own noise of surprise. The stitching is neat, and the skin around it -- while ugly and bruised -- doesn’t show any sign of infection.  

“Looks like I won’t be needin’ that hook then after all.” 

“You’re an ass.” 

The grin he shoots her does something funny to her train of thought; she forgets what the next sentence out of her mouth should be. Fortunately, he steers her back on track by checking under the bandage on his side and makes a show of turning so she can see the perfect line of stitches. 

“I’m surprised the Admiral kept up his end of the bargain.”

“Ah, it was… actually the lieutenant. He came down and insisted the surgeon see me.” 

She’s not sure how to process that. For all his faults, Oliver did seem to be earnest in his attempts to help. 

The image of him walking away as the Admiral and his men restrained her, though, feels burnt into her retinas. “As such,” Edward continues, “the bandages will hold for a good while. I would like to -- err… I think it more beneficial to check on the status of your injuries… if I may, o’course.” 

Before he can stumble his way through asking for her to take her shirt off, she reaches down and tugs it over her head. Moving to stand behind her, Edward gets a full view of her injury. She winces at the pained noise he makes. 

“Any bleeding or open wounds?” she asks. 

“Nay, but -- Elena, this… it looks as if someone poured hot coals down yer back.”

“That’s… a good guess.” At his deafening silence, she relents. “It was coffee. He told me it was my breakfast.” 

“Who?” the single word sounds like it’s being squeezed from his throat. 

“Officer Robinson.” 

“I will gut him like a pig and string him off the bowsprit for harming you.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she murmurs. 

“Who says that?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

Taking the salve from her, he urges her to lie down on her stomach. Sinking onto the thin mattress, she rests her head on his pillow. The linen smells of sun and salt and sweat; she nestles closer, inhaling in the comforting scent she’s come to associate with him. 

The bed dips with his weight as he sits beside her, his thigh pressed alongside her hip. He collects the damp wave of her hair and lays it across the pillow. His fingers make gentle sweeps across her skin with the honey-and-herb smelling lotion. After his fifth apology for nudging the band of her bra, Elena reaches behind her, unhooks it, and tosses it to the floor. 

“Was this… retribution for my stealing the compass?” he asks, his touch stuttering across her lower back. 

“No.” She closes her eyes against the memory of all those men leering at her, waiting for her to give them a show. In the nightmare she’ll have tonight, she imagines they’ll appear as wolves, starving and hungry, ready to tear her limb-from-limb. “I didn’t tell him where the compass was. I mean -- I did, but I gave him a fake location. That group of islands we fought that cargo ship. I figured it would give us enough time to work out another plan, before he keelhauled us or cut off our heads.”

“I would tell ye that I would’ve never let such a thing happen, but I wasn’t able to stop him from… this.” 

Craning her neck to look at him, her throat tightens at the devastated expression he wears.

“Hey,” she says, dragging his attention away from her marred skin. “We’re not playing the blame game. This isn’t your fault, and -- although I could have played nice and things might have turned out different -- it isn’t mine, either.” 

A ragged breath escapes him; the line of his shoulders softens under her assurance. She watches him set aside the pot and lean over her. The kiss he presses to the nape of her neck is so soft, she would’ve missed it -- if not for the second one he places just to the right of the first. A hum rolls along the back of her throat; he reads her obvious encouragement and trails his mouth along the top of her shoulder. 

“Kiss me.”

“I thought that’s what I was doing, Miss McTavish.” 

Just the side of his face is visible, but it’s enough for her to see the hint of a smile. Refusing to deal with his teasing, she pushes herself up to her knees and turns to face him. His dark eyes rove over her, burning bright with the afternoon sun pouring in through the window. She reaches for him and he comes easily into her embrace. With her breasts flush against his naked chest, his heart races against her skin. 

Cradling her face between his hands, he pours every ounce of himself into the kiss. If their moment down in the brig was the dam breaking, then this is the aftermath: a strong, steady current of his mouth moving against hers. He takes only what she gives and no more, letting her explore as she likes. 

Retreating in the name of oxygen, Edward tips his forehead against hers. 

“I felt powerless when you did not return. I was sure… I thought of every horrible thing I knew him to be capable of, and they plagued me the entire night. I shouldn’t’ve put you in such a position, Elena. I promised to protect you and I failed.” His voice works around the emotions clogging his throat. “And I will be damned sure I will never do so again.”

Sitting back to catch his eye, she runs a hand through his hair and shushes him. It does little to ease him. “I would have rather bled to death in that cell than to see you tied to the mast, in your undergarments no less, in pain like this--”

“Edward.” She leans forward and presses her lips to the bandage wrapped over his heart. “What have I told you since day one?” she asks him, lightening her tone to pull him out of the hole he’s dug himself. 

He’s a smart man; he catches on. 

“A great deal about something called Amazon, which I believe is a land to the west and not--”

“Edward.”

“As well as the wonders of indoor plumbing, which you curse at every available opportunity--”

“I’m going to kick your ass out of your own bed.”

“--and for me to stop underestimating you.”

“Exactly,” she nods, smiling when he rolls his eyes good-naturedly. 

Gathering her close once more, he tangles a hand in her hair where she settles against his chest. He runs his blunt nails along her scalp, enjoying the little sighs she makes. 

“How could I forget when you’re reminding me every blessed moment?” 

Unable to resist, Edward drops a kiss onto the crown of her head. The cabin grows quiet, filled only with their shallow breaths and the distant murmurs of the crew. Feeling the day’s weight upon his eyelids, he shakes himself out of the comfortable stupor to find Elena nearly half-asleep. He coaxes her to lay down and helps her out of her damp trousers. Tugging the sheet up to her hips, he turns to check on his crew and see about tracking down the lieutenant’s ship when a hand reaches out for him. 

“Edward.”

“Aye?”

“What if I… screwed up?”

The term is unfamiliar, but he’s grown used to her unusual lexicon. 

“In what way?” 

She shifts on the pillow to face him, though her gaze remains somewhere on the floor. 

“By killing the Admiral. I’m -- this trip, it was supposed to be temporary. I was going to try to avoid talking about the internet or reality television or vaccines and find a way back home and now I’ve gone and...” she trails off, biting at her lip.  

Kneeling beside the bed, Edward brushes a lock of hair from her face and tips his head in thought. 

“Have you considered that this was meant to be? That you coming here to this time... it was already written in your fate.”

Elena clenches her eyes shut and groans. 

“Ugh. That makes my head hurt. I’m a time traveler and thinking about that makes my head hurt.”

Chuckling, he shakes his head and returns to his feet.  

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you with food.”

“Mmm… you know exactly what to say to please a woman.”

“It is one of my hidden talents.”

“What are the others?”

“In due time, Miss McTavish.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

+

+

+

References and other what-have-yous: 

“Chivalry is dead” being a coined phrase is most attributed to Lord Byron, who in 1823 blamed it’s passing on Don Quixote. What a goodreads review that would’ve been. But in 1793, Edmund Burke, after Marie Antoinette’s beheading, remarked that the age of chivalry was dead. So, he gets whatever the equivalent of brownie points were back then.  

Hawkeye and Major Houlihan are from the TV show MASH, where they’re the chief surgeon and head nurse. An extremely topical, 1970s sitcom reference. 

Badge was slang for ‘worry’ in the 18th cent, per an Essex Dialect Dictionary published in 1920.

[sandershospitalau]

The Extra Late Night Show

What can I say except surprise?

CW: Surgery, Mentions of Death, suggested death, Talk Shows, POV Second Person, Remus being gross, Virgil mention, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, only a tiny bit of angst at the end, Mostly funny

Archive of our Own

————————

You blend into the Miami crowds, lost in your own world. You consistently check your pocket to make sure your phone was still there. At this point, you aren’t entirely sure where you are. It's a nice part of town by the look of it, with shiny buildings on either side of the packed road and crowds mulling around you without a care in the world. You have quite a bit to do, but who would want to be doing that? The only way you can think of procrastinating is to take a walk.

You can almost feel the endless viruses floating into your mouth as you pass a gigantic building with more windows than walls. A large open courtyard pushes the building back from the road. Smooth paths cut through tenderly planted flowerbeds, looping around a large statue. The stone statue is a woman with a cloak draped around her modest black dress. She holds her hands to her torso. One hand loosely grips a large crucifix while the other nurses a tiny bouquet of flowers. Oh, now you know where you are! This is the main entrance to St. Gemma's Hospital! You passed by the statue a year ago to visit a friend who had heart surgery here. They got stuck with a pretty big bill (the joys of the American healthcare system), but the doctors did a fairly good job. You’re so distracted by the pretty statue, you’re not prepared for something to fly into your head and send you tumbling into the nearest stranger.

As you get your bearings, you look around for whoever hit you. Standing against the hospital wall with a trash bag over their back like a greasy Santa Claus is someone wearing a dark green jumpsuit, grinning wildly at you.

“Enjoy the show!” the person squeals. Before you can say anything, they race off, the trash bag jumping against their back. You look down at what the person threw at you. It’s a DVD, sitting in a clear case. There’s something written on the case cover in Sharpie.

The Extra Late Night Show!

Starring Remus Duke!

Now, when someone throws a mysterious DVD at you, the usual reaction should probably be to throw the DVD away. But you’ve got nothing better to do. So, nursing your aching head, you pick up the case and make your way towards home. You’ve got a movie to watch.

--------

The footage pops to life. You see a small office space, or what someone attempted to look like an office space. Shelves line the walls covered in cleaning supplies and napkins. The desk in the middle is a child’s school desk. The nameplate on the desk reads ‘Remus Duke’. Someone begins humming from somewhere off-camera.

“Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO,” they hum. “Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do!” Someone pops out from behind the desk. It’s the same greasy person you saw throw the DVD at you!

“Welcome to the Extra Late Night Show!” The person chirps. “I am your Duke of Dirt and King of Chaos, Remus! As always, I have my loyal cameraman, Mitchell!” The camera shakes slightly.

“Dude, this place is a mess,” the cameraman, Mitchell, huffs.

“It’s a janitor’s closet, I don’t know what else you expected,” Remus laughs.

“I thought you had OCD,” Mitchell mutters.

“Nah, my writer decided to throw that out,” Remus scoffs.

“Huh?” Mitchell asks.

“Anywho, welcome to tonight’s show!” Remus declares, dramatically waving his hand overhead. “We’ve got a wonderful line-up for you, folks. Starting off tonight, we’re taking you on a tour of the geriatrics bathrooms! One of the grossest places in St. Gemma’s! Sprinkled throughout this show like eyeball shavings, we’ll include everyone’s favorite segment, Dumpsters of Miami, where I review the contents of my latest dumpster dive, alongside Emergency Room Horror, What’s In My Mouth, and tonight’s Top 5 Hottest Patients! Number 3 will surprise you!”

“You do know I have to work tonight,” Mitchell scoffs.

“Like anyone is going to notice one missing anesthesiologist!” Remus grunts, sitting on his desk.

“Yeah, my boss,” Mitchell huffs. “And the people I’m operating on.”

“But those segments will be highlighting tonight’s main event!” Remus continues. “We’ll be following Dr. D on his rounds tonight as he operates on burn victims and terrifies patients with his morbid scars!”

“Hold up,” Mitchell stammers. The camera pans down, showing Mitchell’s scrubs. “Dr. D? We can’t follow that guy! He’ll rip our skin off!”

“He’s a kitten,” Remus scoffs, waving his hand dismissingly. “We’re friends! It’ll be fine, trust me. Now come on, the geriatrics ward is calling our names!” Mitchell groans and turns off the camera. You decide to fast-forward through the geriatrics ward segment.

You stop at a clip of Remus pushing a large cleaning cart down the hall. St. Gemma’s hallways are just as clean as you remember them. You’re honestly surprised as you realize the dirty man you’re watching is the one in charge of cleaning this place. He polishes off a door handle, giving it a bright shine. He finishes the clean by sticking the doorknob in his armpit.

“You done?” Mitchell grunts.

“We’re almost at Dr. D’s office!” Remus laughs, continuing down the hall. “While we’re there, we’ll get an overview of what he does and convince him not to tear our faces off and let us film him! Here we are!” The camera pans to a wooden door with the words ‘Inter Hospital Consultant’ on it. “The doc’s not a fan of having his name on the door.” Remus pushed the door open and strolled right into the office.

Now THIS is what an office should look like. The room is very professional! Diplomas line the walls, but the names are covered with sticky notes inside the glass cases. The smooth faux-wood desk is clean and tidy, with a computer, a jar of pens and pencils, a black hat, and a phone. The man you assume is Dr. D seats in a comfy modern seat. Long burn scars trail down half of his face and turn a few strains of his black hair white. He wears a black shirt with a yellow tie under his white coat and a pair of yellow gloves. He’s glaring at the camera with an intense stare that makes you look away.

“Dr. Elting,” Dr. D sighs. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the leg surgery on the 35-year old Latina woman that’s supposed to begin in…” He looks at the clock on his computer. “An hour and a half?”

“Relax, D, he’s with me,” Remus giggles. He sits on Dr. D’s desk and crosses his legs. “I called him in sick.”

“Dude, you can’t—” Mitchell stammers.

“I told them you had explosive diarrhea,” Remus says. “They didn’t ask too many questions. So, D, how does it feel to guest star on the Extra Late Night Show?”

“Your world famous talk show,” Dr. D groans. “It’s wonderful, Remus.”

“Woo!” Remus whoops. He lays on his back, knocking over Dr. D’s jar of pens. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You, my rough-skinned friend, are the star of our show! The audience wants to know what a night in the life is like for a surgeon! What’s it like consulting at other hospitals? You ever get the urge to squeeze someone’s heart and feel it beat in your hands?”

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Dr. D tuts, shaking his head. “I already have that power. Now leave.”

“Nah,” Remus says. You hear a soft beep from somewhere in the room. Dr. D pulls something out of his pocket. His face tightens.

“A 7-C-3 from the EMTs,” Dr. D mutters. “Emergency surgery.”

“Oooo, what’s that?” Remus purrs, but Dr. D ignores him. He launches out of his chair and out of his office. Remus scrambles off the desk.

“Remus, this is an emergency call, we can’t follow him!” Mitchell hisses as the pair stumbles out of the office. The camera shakes so much, you can’t see much of what’s happening.

“Do it or I’m putting the leftovers from the geriatrics ward in your locker, chicken,” Remus growls. “Bak-Kah!” The camera angles towards Mitchell’s feet as the pair jog after Dr. D.

“You’re lucky I like your humor, Prince,” Mitchell chuckles.

“It’s Remus Duke when we’re filming!” Remus groans. “You have to use my stage name! Get the camera up!” Mitchell pulls up the camera, and you get a better view of the St. Gemma’s halls. Remus runs alongside the edge of the camera. “So, what’s a 7-C-3?”

“I don’t know EMT code,” Mitchell explains. “I think sevens are for burns.”

“Well then no wonder they called D!” Remus laughs. “He’s the best in the business for burns! I’ve handled the ‘hazardous materials’ from those operations, they look like chicken!” You can see Remus do quotation marks around ‘hazardous materials’. The camera pans around a corner just in time to see Dr. D enter a large elevator.

“Welp, he’s gone,” Mitchell says, stopping. “We better end the show.”

“He can’t lose me that easily!” Remus barks. Remus runs into the nearest elevator and presses a button. The camera barely gets inside before the doors closed.

“Dude, you left your cleaning supplies outside Dr. D’s office,” Mitchell remarks.

“If someone steals it, hey, free food!” Remus laughs. His face pops on camera. He’s so close, you can see each individual hair of his mustache. “This seems like the perfect time to cut to the next segment of our show! We’ll be right back!” Static fills the screen before going black.

You think it glitched out for a moment before white words slide into view. ‘Getting Personal With Remus’. Remus’s messy office pops on screen, but the lights are off. The only light in the room is a small fire inside a trash can beside Remus’s desk. Remus sits on top of the desk, staring into the camera with a smile and a wink.

“Happy Valentine’s!” Remus says. “Hope you like the candle. On tonight’s ‘Getting Personal’, we’re talking about how I met Dr. D. It’s quite the story! I was looking for a job when I suddenly stumbled upon a Help Wanted sign for… can you guess? You’re right, Taco Bell! I began working that same day! I loved tossing frozen food into the fryer. Well one day I got a bit too carried away with my tossing and I got shipped to St. Gemma’s with second-degree burns! And Dr. D was my doctor. I got fired from Taco Bell. Once I was all healed up, I got a job as a janitor here, and D and I have been friends ever since!” Remus kicks his leg out. His foot knocks against the trash can and tips it over. Fire begins to crawl towards the desk. “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” The screen goes black again.

The DVD cuts back to the elevator just as the doors slide open. You vaguely remember seeing an article online about how good the burn ward at St. Gemma’s was, back when you were trying to find where the hospital was to visit your friend. It’s tough to get a good look inside with the moving camera, but you can see plush furniture and gentle lighting over a receptionist’s desk. Voices shout and give orders somewhere in the ward. The receptionist doesn’t seem to care.

“The patient in Room 705 just kicked it,” the receptionist mutters, glancing up at Remus. “You need to clean it out.” Remus ignores the receptionist and jogs down the hall towards the voices.

“Is there enough undamaged skin for the graphs?” one person asks.

“We may have to use some cadaver skin,” another responds.

“Oh, they’re doing skin grafts!” Remus chirps. He stops by a half-open metal door. The sign on the side reads ‘Operating Theater 2, Level 7’. Remus carefully pulls the door open.

“Remus, no!” Mitchell hisses. He grabs Remus’s arm and tugs him back. “You aren’t sterile.”

“I should hope not,” Remus chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you go in there, you could spread an infection!” Mitchell groans. “Burn victims are the most in danger from them! You could kill the guy!”

“All in the name of a good show, right?” Remus sighs, shrugging. “Here, give me the camera.” The camera switches hands, and you finally get a good look at Mitchell. His long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail behind him. He’s wearing black scrubs under a thick white sweatshirt. While Remus’s stare bounced all over the place and Dr. D glared into your soul, Mitchell had the eyes of an emotional teenager ready to do something dangerous.

“I’m not getting fired because of you,” Mitchell hisses with gritted teeth.

“Relax, Anx-Mitch,” Remus says, correcting himself halfway through. The camera pans down and slips just inside the door. The operating theater is split in half. The half you can best see is a long row of sinks below a long window. Through the window you see doctors huddling around a patient. The angle is so bad you can barely tell what they’re doing. You can pick out Dr. D, since his burns pop up under the harsh OR light. He’s focused on the task in front of him, silent while the other doctors discuss how to proceed. He simply works.

“What are you doing?” the receptionist’s harsh voice screams. The camera jumps back and flies through the air, landing in Mitchell’s arms. Remus and Mitchell zoom down the hall with the receptionist’s threats echoing behind them.

“Time for a commercial break!” Remus laughs. He grabs the camera and pushes it down as it cuts to another segment. Here, Remus is outside in the middle of the day, leaning against a large, dirty, green dumpster.

“Here at the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving,” Remus states with the full professionalism of an actual salesman. “You’ll be taught all the best locations in Miami to score some sweet goods! But don’t come near St. Gemma’s or I’ll steal your kneecaps!” Remus flips open the dumpster with a loud clang. He hoists himself up and tumbles into the half full pit of disease. “For the simple cost of your social security number, you’ll get first hand experience at discovering the untold treasures of garage cans and curbside trash. For example…” Remus pops up with a broken baseball bat. The top half has been ripped off. “Weapons! Or…” He ducks back down and brings up a handful of shredded paper. “Confetti!” He tosses the paper in the air. “Call the number below in the next half hour and you’ll get your dumpster personally looted!” The ‘phone number’ Remus mentioned isn’t even composed of numbers. It’s A#@-JRD-(D#$. “Join the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving today!”

The show quickly cuts back to Dr. D’s office. Remus is laying on the floor, kicking his legs in the air. The camera sits beside him.

“Can I stop filming now?” Mitchell groans. “My phone’s going to die.”

“Sadly, we couldn’t get more juicy surgery footage,” Remus huffs. “So we’ll just have to wait for D to come back!”

“Surgery takes a while, Remus,” Mitchell scoffs. “Don’t whine about it. It’s only been a few hours.” The office doors creaks open. Dr. D steps inside his office, slipping on his yellow gloves. You get a glimpse of the burns covering his fingers. Remus shoots up like a puppy. Mitchell clambers up, groaning.

“So how’d it go?” Remus chirps. Dr. D slinks to his desk and sits down.

“Do your job, Remus,” Dr. D grumbles, staring into his computer.

“What, too squeamish to share details?” Remus scoffs, sitting on the desk.

“Exactly,” Dr. D sighs.

“Come on,” Remus purrs. He pokes at Dr. D’s cheek with each word. “Come on come on come ON!” Dr. D glares at Remus and the camera takes a step back. He settles his hands flat on his desk.

“I want you to imagine you have some resemblance of medical training,” Dr. D mutters. “You’re creative, I trust it’s not too difficult. Now I want you to imagine your patient is a 30-something man who was nearly beaten to a pulp by his abusive parents.” Something drops in Remus’s gaze. He’s no longer poking at Dr. D. “I want you to imagine yourself in surgery trying to repair the damage to this man, but as soon as you fix one issue, another issue comes up. The man’s body is destroying itself on the table and there is nothing you can do until a fellow doctor announces the time of death.” Dr. D’s words come out as a violent hiss. His fingers clench inside his gaudy gloves. “Now imagine myself in that situation, but the patient was asleep as their apartment burned around them, and tell me if you would be excited to talk about it!” Remus hops off the desk. Dr. D’s hands unclench slightly, though his jaw is threatening to break his teeth.

“I am in no mood for your ridiculous show,” Dr. D grumbles. For the first time in the show, Remus seems softer. His edges aren’t so sharp. His dirty nails rest over Dr. D’s glove. Dr. D fixes his black hat and takes a deep breath. Then he glares into the camera.

“Leave,” he hisses. Mitchell takes off, out of the office and into the hall before the camera cuts. After a few seconds of darkness, Remus’s office space reappears. He’s sitting behind his desk, once again carrying his demonic smile.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Remus laughs. Someone groans behind the camera. Dr. D steps into view and takes a spot standing behind Remus. He seems a bit calmer than earlier.

“That’s all the time we have for this episode!” Remus chirps, rocking back and forth. “We're ditching the rest of our line-up because I don't care! I’d like to give a warm thank you to Dr. D for being a fabulous guest on our show tonight!” Dr. D seems resigned to his fate, but far more happy than Mitchell ever did. “Tune in next time for live coverage of the Sanders Hospital hosted Nurse’s Rally!”

“A rally?” Dr. D asks, glancing down at Remus. He takes a phone out of his coat and types something in. “...organized by Virgil Lawson.” He puts the phone away again. His expression is unreadable, unchanged from earlier. “Remus, could I assist you in your next episode at this rally?”

“I’d love that!” Remus shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “See you next time on the Extra Late Night Show! Bye, everybody! Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO. Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do! ” Remus waves goodbye. The screen turns black. The show is finally done. Without saying a word, you take the DVD out of your player. You gently put it back in its case. You walk into your kitchen. You open up the trash can and put it inside. Then you decide to look up how to rid a home of curses because you are certain there was a violent curse on that DVD.

————————

@purelyreblogstsedition @watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

[lilacmoon83]

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 167: Weapons in the Form of Words

Cassidy groaned in pain and put a hand to his head, finding blood there from a cut at his hairline.

"Damn...what the hell…" he uttered, as it slowly came back to him. Clayton's other guards surrounding him...his cover was obviously blown. Which mean he was in deep shit. He noticed he was in some kind of cell, like the kind where the museum kept any detainees until the police came to pick them up.

"Cassidy Gold…" Clayton said and then chuckled.

"If only you could understand the irony in your name," he mentioned, which confused Cassidy greatly.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to tell me what you've reported to your boss," Clayton replied.

"What does it matter? You're going to kill me either way," Cassidy retorted. The Collector smirked.

"You're smarter than you look," Clayton said.

"What do you want us to do with him, boss?" Clayton's head of security, a man that Cassidy only new as Garvy, asked.

"You know what to do…" Clayton responded. Garvy smirked.

"And I assume you'd like the body to never be found," Garvy added, as he cracked his knuckles.

"I know a nice little spot in the bay we can weigh the body down. Current will take it before they even know he's missing," the man said, as Cassidy swallowed thickly.

"Actually no...I want this body found. I want you to take him out to the Fremont Troll Bridge and once you take care of him, you'll leave him there. I want him found, very publicly, and more importantly, by Weaver himself," Clayton stated.

"Uh Boss...that's a pretty public place. We'll have to wait until the middle of the night to do it," Garvy stated.

"Then tie him up and wait," Clayton snapped, as he glared at Cassidy.

"I want to Weaver to find him there and know that I am the one that did this, without the proof, of course. I want him to see that he, for all his power, that he was not able to best me. That I was able to take away one of the most important things in the world to him," Clayton stated, causing great confusion for Cassidy. Why would this man think that Cassidy was important to Weaver? He barely knew the man.

"I got the satisfaction of watching his idiot detective Nolan and his wife crumble under the weight of knowing I had a hand in the demise of their daughter. And now it's Weaver's turn to lose," he said with a smirk. Garvy himself even looked a little confused, but he wasn't paid to ask questions.

"We'll get it done, boss...let's go. Looks like you get a few more hours to live, before we put a bullet in your skull. Too bad you're going to spend them in a trunk," Garvy said, as they pulled Cassidy along, while the other guards shared a laugh.

~*~

The uniformed officers went about putting crime scene tape up around Baron Samdi's residence and the entire block was a bustle with activity. David had called in the suicide, though he hated that he couldn't call it what it really was. And Baron Samdi was only making things worse. He was already in front of the news cameras, lamenting about the death of his son and how troubled Franklin was. He was positively boiling in his own skin, as the other man touted Franklin's troubles and his attempts to try and help the troubled man. Unfortunately, David couldn't know that it was about to get worse. As the scene seemingly began to calm down and the body was removed, he finally felt okay in bringing Snow and Regina out of the house and escorted them to the car. But that's when they were instantly swarmed by the media.

"Detective Nolan...is the story that was just released by Franklin Samdi's attorney true?" one reporter asked. David looked at the woman and had no idea what she was talking about. But then Franklin's threat echoed in his mind and he saw Baron suddenly wasn't enjoying the media attention any longer, as they shouted questions at him. He got a weary feeling in his stomach when they started practically shoving their microphones in Snow's face.

"Is it true, Miss Blanchard...that you're really Margaret Nolan?" one reporter shouted.

"Did Baron Samdi orchestrate your captivity to boost his son's career?" another shouted.

"Please Detective Nolan...a statement!" another shouted.

"Detective...is this woman really your wife? And if so, why have you kept that fact hidden?" another called, as they started pawing at Mary. With that, he ushered her and Regina into the car.

"What the hell are they talking about?" he wondered, as Regina took her phone out and started scrolling the local news sites. Her eyes widened.

"Guess Dr. Facilier junior wanted to make sure none of us could ever keep a low profile again. But we can deal with this later. We need to get to Lucy," Regina said, as she continued to read the articles. David agreed and put the car in gear, as he headed for the hospital, but not without reaching over and clutching Snow's hand.

~*~

"Dr. Aeson?" a voice asked and Jenna looked up, only to find a handsome Asian man standing there.

"Yes?" she asked, managing to find her voice. He smiled.

"I'm Dr. Narita," he introduced himself and he his hand out. She smiled and shook it.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Narita...it's a pleasure to meet you," she responded.

"The pleasure is mine, Dr. Aeson. I've been following your work for quite some time now," he said. Her eyes widened.

"My work?" she asked in surprise.

"You're a very gifted surgeon, especially for someone so young. I wasn't even finished with medical school yet at your age. You're something of a prodigy," he mentioned. She felt her cheeks color in response.

"I guess I've always know I wanted to help people heal...and that's why this case is so baffling. For all my skills, I can't find a reason this little girl is in a coma," Jenna said, as she handed him the file.

"It is a puzzling case...have you spoken to the family recently?" he asked, as he looked over the file.

"A bit earlier and I'm afraid I didn't have much to offer them in the ways of comfort," she replied.

"Let's talk to them. It may not be needed, but family history never hurts. I'd like to take blood and genetic samples from the parents. It may not do any good, but at this point, we shouldn't rule out anything," he mentioned. She nodded.

"I agree...they're in the waiting room," she replied, as she led him there. Jacinda and Nick stood up, as they came out, while Henry and Luke hung back behind them.

"Anything?" Jacinda asked desperately.

"I'm afraid there is no change, but this Dr. Anthony Narita. Since this case is a bit baffling, I called in a specialist," Jenna said.

"Since nothing is coming up on any tests, I'd like to begin a series of neurological tests. I'd also like blood samples from her parents to test your genetic material," he said.

"Of course," Nick said, as he offered his arm.

"We'll take you both back to get your samples," Dr. Narita said, as he led them back to an exam room.

"Dr. Aeson...a moment," Weaver called and she walked over to the Police captain.

"What can I do for you, Detective Weaver?" she asked.

"I want you to test Henry and Luke as well against Lucy," he said quietly. She looked at him strangely.

"But they're not biologically related to the girl," she reminded.

"So it would seem...but I think you need to trust me and do those tests. I think you'll find the results incredibly enlightening," he stated.

"But what do I tell them?" she asked.

"Tell them it may help Lucy in case she does need blood. It would help if you had more than one source," he replied.

"Detective...this is highly unethical. I don't know what you're playing at, but I could lose my license for taking blood under false pretenses," she hissed.

"And I can promise you that there is more at stake here than just Lucy and that man that just went with Jacinda is not what he seems. If you care about this little girl...you'll test their blood," he responded. She sighed and then walked over to the two young men.

"Would either of you be willing to have your blood tested? Sometimes in cases like these, we've found that it's best to have more than one blood source, if possible," she said.

"Sure...if it helps Lucy, I'll gladly get tested," Henry said eagerly.

"Me too," Luke agreed, as she led them back to be tested.

~*~

The Enchanted Forest 2

The palace of Rose Red and Fandral

Storybrooke Year - 2023

Fandral led them through the corridors of the palace with Carina beside him.

"How old are you now, Carina?" Emma asked curiously. The blonde smiled.

"I just turned sixteen," she replied.

"Has Summer been cursed too?" the girl asked.

"I'm afraid so...but we're going to find her," Emma assured, as Fandral squeezed her shoulder. They arrived in the library and all except Carina and Fandral were blown away by the truly massiveness of it.

"My Gods...I've never seen anything close to this before," Belle mentioned, as she marveled at it.

"Yes...it is quite spectacular," Fandral agreed.

"There must be...millions of books!" Robin exclaimed.

"Probably closer to trillions," Fandral corrected.

"Rose?" he called.

"Over here, my love!" he heard her call and though it was hard for any of them to tell where her voice was coming from, Fandral seemed to have no difficulty in finding her. They followed and saw her on a tall shelf ladder putting a book away. She looked down and gasped.

"Emma...is that you?" she asked, as she started to climb down. Unfortunately, she mis-stepped and fell. But she wasn't alarmed, because Fandral easily caught her.

"My darling...you must be more careful. You could have been hurt if I wasn't here to catch you," he chided, clearly worried about her. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Oh, you'll always be here to catch me, my love," she responded, drawing a smile from him and another kiss. Carina rolled her eyes.

"So yours are like this too," Emma teased her with a nudge.

"It is constant...they're so embarrassing," she complained. Emma chuckled.

"Trust me, I know...believe I know," the older blonde agreed. Fandral finally put Rose on her feet and she greeted Emma and Belle with hugs.

"It's so good to see all of you...are Snow and David with you?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not, my darling...that's the problem. There has been another curse," Fandral responded, causing Rose to frown.

"He's right...and we don't know where this one took them. That's why we're here...Aphrodite said that your library has recordings for all the realms. If there's a book that knows where they are...then it's here," Belle interjected.

"Of course...come. The east wing is where all the storybooks for all the realms are stored. I don't believe I have met any of you though," Rose mentioned, as she noticed the newcomers with them.

"Oh, of course...this is Queen Elsa of Arendelle, Princess Anna of Arendelle, and her husband, Prince consort, Kristoff," Emma said, introducing them.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you...Snow has told me about you," Rose said, as she surprised Elsa by taking her hands.

"We will find Leo...I promise," she offered. Elsa looked surprised.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Oh, she and my mother gossip at least twice a week through a magic mirror, or at least, they usually do," Emma explained.

"Yes...magical Skype, I believe Snow calls it. This explains why it's been a while since I've heard from her though," Rose said, as she and Fandral led them to the east wing.

"This place is truly incredible," Belle marveled, as she held Gideon's hand while they followed their hosts.

"Yes...my family has been guardians of this library for centuries. It fell into a bit of disarray when my parents died and my Uncle took over. He did not take the responsibility of maintaining it seriously," Rose explained.

"Hermes was quite unhappy with him, but fortunately, she no longer has to worry about stories that have been written not being properly stored," Fandral added.

"Sounds like that comes with some extra perks like my parents have with the chalice," Emma mentioned. They smiled.

"Quite right...as you may have been able to tell, we have not aged much either. Asgardians age much slower, as you know," Fandral said.

"Yes and because the library fell into such ruin under my Uncle's tyrannical rule, Hermes has ensured that will not happen and granted me an Asgardian lifespan," Rose explained.

"I am eternally grateful to her for that, because I could not imagine living without my darling Rose," Fandral said, smiling fondly at her, as they arrived in the east wing. There was a massive wall filled with Once Upon a Time books, all neatly shelved.

"This is massive. Do we have to search through all of these? Because...I'm not sure we have that kind of time," Emma said, as she groaned and then took a sip of the elixir Aphrodite had made for her.

"Emma...are you okay?" Rose asked in alarm.

"That's kind of the other part of the story. When the curse was cast, Mother Gothel wanted to make sure I couldn't interfere," Emma replied.

"She poisoned my heart and made sure I was left behind. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead, but I survived long enough for Elsa and the others to find me," she continued.

"And your parents...they don't think…" Fandral asked, but trailed off. She nodded sadly.

"Yes...even when they get their memories back, they're going to think I'm dead," she confirmed.

"I can't even imagine…" Rose uttered, as she turned back to the books.

"Normally, this would be a most daunting task, but fortunately for us, your parents will be easy to find, because of who they are," Rose said, as selected a book. It was just like the original book and Emma looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know right where it was?" she questioned, as she opened it, finding the pages filled with her parent's complete story.

"Your parents story is quite enthralling and our little ones love hearing about their adventures as much as any. Their journey to Camelot is an especially popular one at bedtime," Fandral mentioned.

"Little ones? Have you been holding out on us?" Belle asked.

"Mama! Papa!" they heard two voices, as two children around Gideon's age scampered into the east wing. Fandral caught the blonde boy and dark haired girl in his arms.

"Ah yes...I forget the rest of you haven't met them. Snow and David know, thanks to our regular communication, but I forget it's been quite a time since we've seen the rest of you," Rose said.

"Yes, these are our twins. Our son Benjamin, or Ben for short," he stated, before gesturing to the little girl.

"And our daughter Arianna, or Ari for short," Fandral replied.

"Children...this is Emma," he said, as they looked up at their father and then at the blonde.

"From the story, papa?" Arianna asked and he nodded.

"Yes...and these are her friends. We are going to help them find Emma's parents," he explained. Emma smiled and leafed through the book, reliving their adventures, like when they fell through the portal to the Enchanted Forest, then Neverland and the whole Atlantis debacle. Then Zelena's arrival in Storybrooke, followed by Elsa's and the Queens of Darkness. She paged through their journey to Camelot and then their intrepid adventure to the Underworld to save her father. That had brought about the melding of Storybrooke with residents from the Land of Untold stories and she still shuddered at the memory of Dr. Jekyll. Ultimately, that had culminated in the Final Battle with the Black Fairy, which had been followed by a period of relative peace. Henry had decided to leave to explore the realms a few years later, which subsequently brought Alice to Storybrooke looking for their help. They had thwarted Clayton, Facilier, and the Tremaines for a time, allowing Henry to go on to marry Ella. Lucy had been born then and they celebrated each birthday with her...until her eighth when Gothel had finally slithered out of hiding to tear them all apart.

"Here is it...Lucy's eighth birthday party," Emma said, as she read the words.

"And despite all they had done to stay together, a curse would once again separate Snow White and Prince Charming. And this time, the Collector assured them that reuniting would be more difficult, for they were being taken to a large city within the Land Without Magic. But thanks to the magic of true love, young Summer was able to encase her brother fully in a bubble and herself partially in one, ensuring that they would end up with at least one of their parents. And so the curse was wrought and tore asunder the Charming family, leaving Emma behind. But despite what Gothel and the Collector promised, all was not lost. The bubble allowed young Bobby to retain his memories and with that, he was determined to find his father so he could help him save his mother. Upon arriving in Hyperion Heights, the Facilier's evil grandson locked Snow White up in his mental hospital to ensure that she could not seek out her true love…" Emma read.

"Oh Gods...he put my mother in a mental hospital again," Emma lamented.

"Not to mention I don't believe I have ever heard of a city called Hyperion Heights," Robin mentioned.

"It could be a suburb. We should return to Storybrooke and then we can use the Internet to search for it," Belle suggested. But as Emma turned to the next page, she realized they would not have to. The page illustrated her baby brother venturing into a large city to find their father and in the background was a very distinct landmark.

"We don't have to," Emma said, as she turned the book to show them. Belle gasped.

"The Space Needle!" she exclaimed.

"What does that mean?" Anna questioned.

"It means we know where they are," Emma answered, as she shared a hopeful look with Belle.

"Seattle," Belle stated.

"Can we portal to there?" Elsa asked. Emma shook her head.

"No...there's no magic. We'll need to portal to Storybrooke and then get on a plane. Which still takes time," she replied.

"Perhaps I can offer the bi-frost as an alternative?" Fandral questioned. Emma smiled.

"That would be great," she responded. He smiled.

"It is only a two hour journey to the edge of realms and then we'll be in this Hyperion Heights before sundown," he stated.

"We?" Belle asked curiously. Rose smiled.

"Our friends are in trouble and it sounds like there is another coming battle. We will definitely be coming as reinforcements," Rose stated, as they prepared to leave for the edge of realms, where they would summon the bi-frost and cross into the Land Without Magic…

~*~

Detective Rogers was actually surprised when the elevator didn't stop on the 84th floor and kept ascending to the 85th. It appeared so far that Ivy Belfry was not lying and now he was very curious as to what might be uncovered here. As he stepped off the elevator, he heard a noise and drew his firearm. He cautiously moved through the darkened corridors and saw the shadow of a fan spinning slowly. He determined the noise was coming from there and he moved sharply around the corner, leveling his weapon. But he quickly lowered it, as he saw a girl on the floor, curled up against the wall. Her clothes were in tatters and her hair was dirty and matted. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes and he put his weapon away. Rogers observed the chains around her ankles and put his hand out.

"It's okay...I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help," he assured, as he showed her his badge.

"Do you know who did this to you?" he asked.

"There...is a woman that comes to check on me. She put me here...I don't know here name," the girl responded.

"If I were to show you a photo, would that help?" he asked. She shrugged and he pulled out his phone, as he found a picture of Victoria Belfry from a recent article. He showed her the phone and her eyes widened.

"That's her!" the girl confirmed.

"Okay...we're going to get you out of here. Can you tell me your name?" he asked.

"Eloise," she answered and his face went ashen.

"Eloise Gardener,"

~*~

Jacinda rolled her sleeve down, as Dr. Narita finished taking a blood sample.

"Do you really think this will help?" she asked nervously.

"I'm not sure...but it never hurts to have blood on hand," he replied, as he readied the sample for the lab.

"I know it's not much consolation, but we're doing everything we can. And I won't stop until I have some answers for you, whatever they may be," he assured, as he stepped out. Ella sighed and exited the exam room, finding Henry doing the same.

"Hey...you gave blood too?" she asked curiously.

"Uh yeah...I know I'm not related, but they said it couldn't hurt if I was willing to give a sample," he replied. She smiled gently.

"Thank you," she said gratefully and he cautiously took her hand.

"She's gonna be okay...we just have to have hope," he told her. She smiled thinly.

"That sounds like what the characters in your book would say. Have hope and faith," she recalled. His eyes widened in surprise.

"You read my book?" he asked. She grinned.

"Of course I did...it's Lucy's favorite and I can see why. You are a gifted writer...your characters are so vivid. I've never read fairy tales quite like these though," she replied. He shrugged.

"I guess everyone has their take on the classics," he said.

"I like your take. The women are total bad asses!" she said with a laugh and he chuckled.

"Yeah...I suppose they are," he agreed, as they returned to the waiting room, just as Snow, David, and Regina entered the hospital again.

"Hey...I thought you guys went home?" Jacinda asked.

"Uh no...there was just something we had to take care of. No change?" Snow asked. Jacinda shook her head.

"No...but a Dr. Narita is now consulting on Lucy's case. He took blood samples from us and Nick's boyfriend Luke. Dr. Aeson must be taking Nick's now, because he's not back yet," she replied.

"Nick is alone with Dr. Aeson?" David asked. Jacinda shrugged.

"I guess so," she replied, as a bad feeling settled in the pit of David's stomach.

"David…" Snow uttered and he gave her a look before rushing back there. He flashed his badge and none of the orderlies tried to stop him, as Weaver approached.

"I take it you were successful?" he asked quietly.

"We got it...but we almost didn't," Snow responded.

"Yes...the headlines are already out there. Franklin Samdi committing suicide is trending," he mentioned.

"Except I'm almost positive that Baron is behind it. He's a master at hypnotism. I think he used a trigger word. On his own grandson," Regina said quietly. Weaver shrugged.

"A grandson that was born from a son he either abandoned, didn't know or care about. Power is like a drug for him and he'll do anything for it. Believe me...I know," Weaver replied.

"The lure of the dagger is one thing for him...but the Chalice is even more appealing, because it does not come with the ties that the dagger does...and…" Weaver continued, as he shifted uncomfortably.

"And?" Regina asked.

"I have reason to believe that it can possibly kill me too," he revealed.

"But I thought that was impossible. Only the dagger can kill you," Snow refuted.

"In the state it is now...but if its power were to be turned dark, then it could theoretically destroy the dagger," he stated.

"Theoretically?" Regina questioned.

"Obviously, it's never been done. The chalice's power has always remained pure and in the hands of the truest loves. The Dark One dagger has never been challenged, because the object that could challenge is made of pure light. The chalice and the dagger are opposites. But if they were suddenly objects of alike darkness…" he explained.

"Then one could probably nullify the other," Regina surmised.

"Only someone well versed in magic could pull something like that off, but both Facilier and Gothel qualify," he said.

"Well, they're not getting their hands on it," Snow assured, as she looked toward the door that led back to the exam rooms.

"Don't worry...David will stop him if he's dared to go after Eva," Regina assured. This entire night had been a nightmare, but if David could catch Nick, then that would be a definite victory in their column. The sooner he was locked up, the sooner he was away from their son and wasn't able to hurt anyone else.

"Uh...did you and David really just witness a suicide?" Henry asked, as he was looking at his phone. She sighed.

"Unfortunately yes," she answered.

"Wait...there's another story here that's saying you're not really Mary Blanchard, but the thought to be deceased Margaret Nolan?" he asked. She sighed. Media attention was the last thing they needed and probably Franklin's last ditch effort at revenge. She looked at her phone and rolled her eyes at the headline.

"Henry...it's a really long story and I promise we'll explain," she said tiredly.

"Suffice to say that I had amnesia and Baron Samdi took advantage of me after that accident with the crazy professor. He kept me from David and let him think I was dead. That's the short version," she said.

"Yeah, it says here that he threatened his son to keep you locked up or he'd ruin his practice," Henry said.

"This is going to ruin his reputation for sure. I guess that's a bright spot...bad press won't be good for him," Regina mentioned.

"Yes...and we'll find a way to use it to our advantage, because we're about to have more problems," Weaver said, as he returned.

"What now?" she asked, as they saw Rogers walking into the waiting room and watched him approach Victoria Belfry.

"Victoria Belfry," he stated.

"Yes, what it is?" she asked in a bored tone.

"You're under arrest for the kidnapping of Eloise Gardener," he announced, as he cuffed her and led her out, while Henry and Jacinda gaped in surprise.

"Eloise Gardener?" Snow asked and Regina shot a look of dread toward her old mentor.

"No…" she stammered.

"I'm afraid so...the witch is free," he stated gravely. Snow sighed and gripped the chalice from inside her bag.

"I need to find David and we need to wake Lucy now," she said, as she hurried toward her room.

[shireness-says]

Scurvy and Milestones

Summary: Growing up is hard. Doing so surrounded by a bunch of pirates who won't stop to think before they speak doesn't make things any easier. ~2K. Also on AO3.

A/N: It’s my birthday, so here’s a party favor for you all. That’s how this works, right? 

I really enjoy writing Tiny Henry, so here’s a little follow-up to Killian Jones and the Lost Boy. There might be a few more of these if all goes well.

Many thanks to @awkwardnessandbaseball, who keeps reading through these and telling me they’re adorable. You’re a delight, babe.

Rated T for mild swearing. Enjoy!

Killian Jones is proud to captain the most loyal crew on the seven seas. It’s not every day that an entire ship full of sailors willingly give up their way of life, all because the captain decided to move his life in a different direction. But that’s what had happened when Killian gave up piracy to stay on the straight and narrow for Henry, the little boy who had stolen all their hearts, and most days, he couldn’t be more thankful. However, other days he just wants to screech about how boneheaded they all are.

Today is one of the latter.

It hadn’t started out that way, but then again, they never do. Things are actually good; it’s been almost a year since the change-over, and while he and Emma still aren’t married, Henry is happy as a clam and growing like a weed, and the new import and trade business he’s engaging in has proved profitable and welcomed by the locals. They’d actually just gotten back from one of their trips two days prior, laden down with all manner of fabrics to trade - something the townspeople have proven especially excited about. Yesterday had been dedicated to downtime and family, joyfully letting Henry recount every single moment of the past two weeks, but it’s back to the grindstone now, focusing on the various repairs, maintenance, and upkeep that needs to be done to keep any ship in prime condition.

They’re actually winding down for the day - there’s a few more extensive, but still minor repairs that need to be executed in the hold, but everything has been put back in its proper place and set to order, the ropes neatly coiled, the cargo hold emptied and scrubbed. He’s just about to suggest that they all swing by the Red Wolf or Rabbit Hole when he spots Emma striding down the docks carrying Henry with a terrifying look on her face. Killian’s a smart man; he knows well enough that her scowl means he won’t be dropping by the tavern anytime soon.

As she strides up the gangplank, he starts to be able to hear Henry’s cries, and his wariness turns to dread in a heartbeat. Gods, it’s only been hours since he last saw the boy, but Henry’s at that age where he’s into absolutely everything and attracted to trouble like metal to a magnet - anything might have happened.

“What’s happened, love?” he asks Emma urgently, tone and eyebrows alike relaying his frantic concern.

“What’s happened,” she replies, barely tempering her furious look to carefully shift Henry into his arms, “is Whale is a damn idiot, and I might run him through myself.”

It’s a non-sequitur, to say the least, but Killian is too concerned about Henry for the moment to concern himself with whatever his ship’s doctor might have done now.

“What’s the matter, lad?” he asks as gently as he can muster through the worry. “Are you hurt?”

Henry nods, the tears suddenly coming back in a rush. Oh, this is bad, this must be very bad if Henry’s in such a state. Out of the corner of his eye, he can spot Emma fixing Whale with a death glare, the man having wandered closer at the sound of his name and currently blanching in the face of her fury. At any other time, it’d be wildly amusing, but Killian is too concerned to give the spectacle more than a passing thought.

“Well what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I’m dying!” Henry bursts out suddenly, trying to burrow his little body into Killian’s chest like he can hide from the words. Killian, in the meantime, is thoroughly confused. The only information he’s received is that Henry is apparently dying, and Whale is an idiot in this regard. He just can’t see what the connecting information is yet, and Emma’s too far gone in her own frustration and anger to provide what that is.

“Why do you think you’re dying, Henry?” he asks. It seems the best way to get to the bottom of… whatever this is.

The lad tearfully opens his hand to reveal a tiny object that it takes Killian a moment to realize is a tooth.

“You lost a tooth, Little Mate?”

And that’s enough to send Henry into another fit of tears. “I didn’t eat my orange!” he sobs, which does not illuminate the subject in the way he seems to think it does. It must mean something to Whale, however, as he starts trying to back away before Emma stops him with a dirty look. They’ll deal with whatever he’s done later, after Killian finally gets to the bottom of this mess.

“I don’t understand, Little Mate. Why does losing your tooth mean you’re going to die, and where does the orange tie in?”

“Because Whale said if I didn’t eat my fruits and sauerkraut, my teeth would all fall out and I’d die of scurvy!”

Oh.

It suddenly all makes sense, and Killian could just throttle the man if not for the fact that he can’t afford to lose his ship’s doctor, and Henry would probably be even more traumatized. Emma’s practically seething, about to attack, a feeling Killian strongly shares. But the boy is still here, ensconced in his arms, and this isn’t the time or place to confront the imbecile Killian calls his surgeon. That will have to wait until later. It’s with no small effort that he forces himself to remain calm and smile down at Henry instead of outright exploding.

“You’re going to be just fine Henry. I lost all my baby teeth when I was around your age, and they grew back just fine. I know yours will too. Isn’t that right, Whale?” The last word is practically hissed at the man in his barely suppressed anger.

A visibly nervous Whale frantically nods before responding. “That’s exactly right, Henry, nothing to worry about, this is entirely normal.”

As Henry looks up at Killian with questioning eyes - gods, it still gets him, the way this little boy views him as the ultimate authority on everything, looks to him for confirmation and reassurance - he does his best to put on a comforting smile. “See, lad? Nothing to worry about. Dr. Whale says it’s completely normal.” After receiving an accepting nod from Henry, he spends another couple of minutes soothing the lad and drying tears before shifting to set the boy back on his feet.

“In fact,” he continues, smiling all the while, “this is very exciting! Look at you, you’re such a big boy now. I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you, Uncle Will?”

Henry perks up at the mention of a celebration, and Scarlet is smart enough to take the hint: distract Henry, and Killian will deal with whatever idiocy Whale has been spouting.

“Well of course!” Scarlet adds in. “In fact, I think this might warrant a trip down to the bakery. What do you say, Little Mate, want to go see about some pastries?”

“Mama too?”

In truth, Emma had been looking more like her afternoon plans included giving Whale a piece of her mind, and maybe a smack in the face, but she visibly softens when Henry asks his question. It’s only recently that he’s switched from calling her “Emma” to “Mama”, and Killian can just see her melt each and every time. “Of course I’ll come with, Henry, unless you want to have your outing with just Uncle Will?”

Henry shakes his head forcefully, prompting a smile form Killian. “No, you come too, Mama.”

Emma smiles, that soft smile she reserves just for the lad, and with one more look at Whale that could flay flesh from bone (and an only slightly less terrifying look at Killian that he takes to mean “You had better fix this”), the little party is off, Henry holding one each of Emma and Scarlet’s hands and chattering away about his favorite pastries, once again the enthusiastic little boy they all know and love.

Killian takes another moment to watch the small party make their way down the docks before rounding to face Whale. There’s a small amount of gratification to see how the man’s nervousness hasn’t gotten any better, and that the rest of the crew is viewing him with similarly angry and incredulous expressions.

“Would you please explain to me, Dr. Whale, why the hell you’d tell a child something like that?” he demands, finally letting the fury creep into his voice. Henry is his son, and it’s Whale’s fault that Henry was sent into near hysterics, thinking he was going to die because of some stupid, misguided comment that obviously sunk in much further than anticipated.

“Would it help if I told you there was a good reason, at the time?” Whale offers in a hesitant voice, and no, it really does not. Killian levels the other man with a look he hopes conveys exactly how unhelpful that statement is.

“Look, it was that first month he was with us, and he was being picky about his food, so I just said it to get him to eat his portion, alright?” the doctor says defensively. “I didn’t realize he’d take it to heart so much! Or, you know, not realize he’d lose his teeth naturally.”

“He was a four year old kid, you idiot. What did you expect?”

Whale just shrugs, which is about par for the course. The man may be a brilliant doctor who managed to keep an entire ship of pirates patched up, and a decent worker in the meantime, but he’s severely lacking in common sense and still unsure about how to interact with small children. This incident only deepens Killian’s resolve that, if he and Emma eventually have other children, they absolutely must be kept from spending time alone with Victor Whale for fear of the kind of ridiculousness he might put in their heads or scar them with. He probably ought to mention that to Will and Belle as well, come to think of it.

There’s definitely a part of Killian - the piece of himself that’s devoted to being a fiercely protective parent - that wants to inflict bodily harm on Whale for scaring his son like this. A punch to the face would be awfully satisfying, and it’s tempting. But Killian resolved to be a better man when he gave up the pirate life almost a year ago, and overreacting violently is part and parcel of the way of living he’s made an effort to walk away from. That doesn’t mean he can’t make Whale pay, and in this case, there’s no reason it can’t be literally.

Killian allows himself one more moment of unchecked fury towards the idiot before letting it out on a heavy sigh and jerking his head towards the gangplank. “Come on, you bloody imbecile, let’s go.”

Whale looks shocked. “You’re not going to, I don’t know, make me walk the plank or scrape barnacles or something?” he asks confusedly, hurrying to add “Not that I’m complaining…”

Killian smirks. “Oh no, I think a different sort of payment should suffice. Since Henry’s lost a tooth, he’s owed a gift at his bedside in the morning from the fairies. And you’re going to pay for it.” The steely glint in his eye expresses an unstated last clause: it won’t be anything cheap either.

Whale must hear the message loud and clear, because he sighs resignedly, shoulders slumping, and leads the way down the gangplank.

------

Henry never again worries about losing his teeth again, but that may have something to do with the intricately carved wooden ship, just like Papa’s, that he receives from the tooth fairy that first time. Two weeks later, when the second one pops out, it’s back to the toy store for Whale - a course that will become very familiar to the doctor in the coming months and years.

And if Killian and Emma try to limit Henry’s time with Whale in the future, well, it’s not entirely unwarranted.

[coffeefairy]

Halloween

From the title you can see when it was meant to be posted but I figure better late than never! A little Mad Whale one-shot. Lightly angsty but ending with tooth-rotting, cavity-inducing fluff. Rated teens and over. Features a same sex romance - don’t want, don’t read.

Hope you like it!

Percy Whale sat back, his glasses perched on his nose, a new thriller open on his lap and a glass of rich red wine at the side table next to him. His phone was off and he’d bargained with himself that he wouldn’t check his emails for at least two hours. The evening was his.

As head surgeon for the Grimm Memorial Hospital he rarely had any free time at all. When he wasn’t on shift, he was preparing to be or spent time doing research and external consultations. Today was a freak occurrence but one he had decided to make the most of.

Settled in he dove into the story with a content sigh. He’d only gotten past the first two pages and the description of a grisly murder when the bell rang. He considered letting it ring. He wasn’t expecting anyone. But it could be a delivery, out of state hospitals sometimes couriered him medical charts when they needed help. So he got up, marked the page and opened the door.

There was no one outside. Or so he thought until he looked down. At about thigh height, a ghost, Spiderman, an astronaut and a fairy chorused “Trick or treat!” With a sinking feeling in his stomach he realised today was October 31st. Halloween.

“Oh. Right.” He pictured his empty cupboards, never stocked as he spent so little time at home. “Erm...One second.” Venturing inside he rifled through his kitchen. When he returned he held out a bag of carrot sticks he’d found hiding in the fridge.

“Here you go, take as many as you want.”

The fairy turned on her heel, the ghost took a step back, Spiderman said “n’thanks” behind his mask but the astronaut plucked a stick from the bag and bit it.

“Eww, it’s actually carrots!” Then they all filed off the porch. To his dismay, Percy spotted more little costumed people crowding on the street. He slammed the door shut and wondered if he should turn off the lights and pretend he wasn’t home. Then again, he didn’t know how seriously the children took the “trick” part of the evening and he really didn’t want to have anything unpleasant put in his mailbox or clean toilet paper from his yard. So he sighed and left the lights on.

This time he only managed on page before the bell rang again.

Heaving himself up, he grabbed the bag of carrots and opened the door. Pretty much the same scene played out again, this time to Buzz Lightyear, Dracula and what could be mini Hilary Clinton.

Over and over, the door buzzed and carrot sticks were frowned upon. He only got a few more pages in his book and he was getting mightily annoyed with his evening getting interrupted. How late could these children be allowed out of bed, anyway?

The doorbell rung once more and he put the book down with more force than necessary. After this one he’d turn the lights off and go to bed. He might as well use the extra time to sleep if he couldn’t spend it reading.

Opening the door he found a pretty little blonde girl dressed as a jedi on his porch.

“Trick or treat!”

“Right, I know it’s Halloween and I know you’re expecting candy, but see I didn’t go to the store so all I have are carrot sticks. Do you want one or are you going to stomp off?”

“Can I have one, please? I love carrots.”

He blinked and frowned. “Ah...okay. Here,” he handed her the whole bag and she grabbed a handful before handing it back. “That’s all right, you keep that.”

“The whole thing?” Her eyes were wide.

“Sure.”

“Thanks!” She propped a stick in her mouth and munched. “Mister, do you think you could tie my shoe? It’s loose and I don’t know how too.”

This was very far from the evening he’d pictured but amused with the straightforward kid, he sank to sit on his knees.

“Okay, foot here,” he patted his knee and obediently she put a moderately clean tennis shoe on his jeans. Tying it quickly he heard steps on the porch, too heavy to be a child and figured the chaperone was coming to check on the little jedi to see what was taking so long. Wise, the thought to himself. There were all kinds of weirdos out there.

“Daddy, I got a whole bag of carrots!” The girl announced.

“Good haul. Will there be any left for me?”

Percy snapped his head up from the little tennis shoe. He’d know that voice anywhere. He hadn’t heard it in fifteen years or so but he knew it immediately.

When he looked up he met the eyes that peered down, past the little girl’s shoulder and down at him.

“Percy?” The word was drenched in disbelief.

“Jefferson.” He set the little foot down and got up.

“You know the mister, Daddy?”

“I used to.”

“A long time ago?”

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

Though he was speaking to his daughter, Jefferson’s eyes hadn’t left his since he spotted him.

It had been a long time.

He’d changed, grown taller and broader over the shoulders. Lean muscles covered in jeans and a black overcoat. His hair was windblown and his face chiselled in the weak porchlight. A dart of unbridled lust shot through Percy and he swallowed. So the man had changed but the reaction was the same as always.

Percy crossed his arms over his chest. “So...how are...things?” It was a lame question, forced out of him from politeness.

“Fine. And you?”

“Likewise.” The cold of standing on the porch with just his sweater and jeans was getting to  him. Or perhaps it was the Ghost of Halloweens Past. “Did you bring your wife for the trick-or-treating?”

Jefferson shook his head.

“Daddy’s dee-vor-ced,” the girl helpfully piped up from between them.

“Oh.” He shifted, let his arms drop. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” Jefferson’s grin was as mercurial as it had been all those years ago and something in the vicinity of his chest cavity contracted.

“Right. Well…” He looked back over his shoulder, into the house.

Jefferson stiffened slightly. “Are we keeping you from your company?”

“No, no. I’m just reading tonight.”

“I see.” He put a hand to the little girl’s shoulder. “Well, we should be off. It was...nice to see you.”

“You too. And you,” he directed to the mini jedi.

“Bye!” she called and marched down the steps from his porch. Jefferson lingered a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and with a nod he followed his daughter.

Percy closed the door behind them and leaned his forehead against the wood. Jefferson Madden. After all these years. He had no idea he was living in Boston. No idea he had a daughter, that he was divorced.

Because you didn’t want to know, he reminded himself. Though Jefferson would sometimes appear in the papers he always made sure to skip those parts. He hadn’t looked him up online or asked any of their common acquaintances about him. All to avoid hearing anything that would call him to mind or see any part of him that would make the old picture in his head come more alive. The way he saw him in his memories was sketchy, like a stop motion movie reel. It ran, interrupted, parts missing and out of focus. But it still ran. It always had. Ever since the summer when they’d both been sixteen and he’d been hired to tutor the young heir of one of the world’s biggest business conglomerates. It wouldn’t do for him to get kicked out of school and as a desperate measure a tutor Jefferson’s age had been brought in. Percy.

He remembered seeing the other boy for the first time, trudging down the stairs in the largest house he’d ever been in. Bark brown hair that waved around his face, a defined jaw and eyes the colour of steel. His heart had started hammering in his chest, his palms had grown clammy and his throat felt slammed shut. He’d never experienced anything like it before. A door had been inched open to something new and profound was on the other side.

The doorbell rung again and he jerked free from the reverie. Not more trick-or-treaters. Why hadn’t he turned off the lights and headed upstairs already? Unable to escape as the people on the other side would be able to see his shape through the window in the door, he opened it.

Jefferson, carrying his daughter and wearing a sheepish expression stood outside.

“You’re back,” Percy stated dumbly.

“We are...I just discovered I’ve lost my keys and my wallet. I called the locksmith and he says the earliest they can be there is tomorrow morning...I don’t suppose we could…” He looked away for a moment. “I wouldn’t, except we just moved back and I don’t really have anywhere to...to go.”

Realizing Jefferson was asking if he could stay, everything in Percy recoiled. He’d been hurt enough by this man and he should just slam the door in his face. But he was carrying his sleeping daughter, and he looked harmless wearing that sheepish expression.

“Fine.” Percy stepped back to let them in. “She can take the guest bedroom upstairs and you can have the couch.”

“Oh, I’ll share with Grace. She doesn’t take up much room and she’ll be frightened if she wakes up alone.”

Damn the man. Percy had no wish to share the upper floor with Jefferson, he’d much prefer it if he slept downstairs, as far away as he could get.

“Very well. It’s the third door on the right upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson said and edged past him, careful not to hit the doorframe. He disappeared up the steps and Percy headed into the kitchen to refill his wine glass. Then he downed it and poured another. His nerves, vibrating in his stomach, felt a little less twisted, as if coated in oil and he distracted himself with taking out another glass.

He heard the other man walk around upstairs, and it put tension in his spine. For a moment he considered sending an SOS text to Ruby to have her come over and distract him from Jefferson. But his best friend was out with Archie and their children trick-or-treating. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her away with a friendship code red. He’d have to manage on his own.

Percy put on some music, fiddled with the lighting, moved the glasses. Then he thought it looked like a date and turned the music off and the lights brighter. He was still determining the right amount of light when Jefferson returned and he stopped himself.

“Is that a drink for me?”

Percy nodded, edging backwards. This way they had the whole breakfast bar between them.

“Thank you. Trick-or-treating is mad. You’re surrounded by little dressed up people, it smells of candy everywhere and you get a headache from all the noises and lights.” He took a sip of wine and sighed contentedly.

“You used to always like loud noises and bright lights.”

He remembered Jefferson had always surrounded himself with noise. Music, wherever he went.

“I like my own noise. Or maybe I just got old.”

“You don’t look old.”

“Neither do you. In fact you…” A very vague colour washed over Jefferson’s cheeks. “You look good.”

Percy knew he’d been a scrawny kid the last time Jefferson saw him. Though he wasn’t in Jefferson’s league, he’d filled out since high school, gotten rid of his constant glasses and had a better haircut.

“Thanks. You...look well.” Well? He looked better than he’d ever had and just seeing him in his kitchen made Percy’s heart pound in his chest like a hammer on an anvil. The brown, slightly wavy hair that looked so soft to the touch, the eyes that struck a colour between gray and blue, like a winter’s lake, the quick smile - all were the same as they’d been. And they affected him just as they had. The wide shoulders, the sculpted chest and the crease in his cheek when he smiled were all new but they just built on the attraction that had always been there.

Cut it out, he told himself. He was a grown man, an intelligent, educated, sensible man and he could resist something as basic as physical attraction.

Jefferson accepted the half compliment with a half smile. Starting forward he stopped on the other side of the breakfast bar. Percy edged back a little further, the kitchen counter pressing against his back. He couldn’t back away any further.

“So you did it.” Jefferson was looking at the post stacked on the counter next to his glass. “Became a doctor. Like you wanted.”

“Ah...yes. I did.”

“Graduate top of your class, doc?”

“I...well, there were a lot of intelligent people there and…” Jefferson’s eyes were amused while they rested on his face and he stopped his stumbling. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“I always knew you would. Do you like it?”

“Being a doctor? I do.”

“Everything you thought it would be?”

“Absolutely.”

“And do you still get a kick out of people calling you Dr Whale?”

Percy was vividly reminded why the man in front of him had used to be able to make him laugh so much. And the way he said doctor chased a thrill up his spine.

“Of course I do.”

“That must be great. Reminded every day you reached your goal, made something out of yourself. I never amounted to much. Just like my dad predicted.” He shrugged and turned the glass by the stem, watching the liquid swirl.

“You’re something. You’re a father.”

Jefferson looked up, surprised, like he hadn’t thought of it quite that way before.

“You have a lot more than a career can offer. If I…” Percy’s voice trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.

“So you...you don’t...There’s no one? You’re not with anyone?”

Percy was wildly tempted to make up a boyfriend, someone tall and built who was out of the country a lot but always came back and took him on the most romantic dates.

“No.”

“Me too. Single, I mean,” Jefferson tripped a little on the words.

Percy wondered if the other man was trying to be empathic or if he actually cared for him to know he was single. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Jefferson appeared to prefer women and he’d come to peace with that a long time ago. Or so he’d thought. He despaired at how little it took for Jefferson to drag his thoughts back to where they’d always been concerning him. Even as he remembered how he’d been hurt his fingers ached to card through that soft, floppy hair. His eyes searched out Jefferson like a magnetic pole, his gaze tripping and getting stuck on how he had laughing creases spanning to his temples, how a day’s stubble roughened his jaw, how his hands looked wrapped around the glass. He didn’t know how long he could stand to be around him before the sensations drowned him completely. He wouldn’t be able to trust himself then.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I’m sure there are specials on,” he blurted. Anything to distract him from Jefferson’s presence.

“Ah...sure.”

Percy topped off their glasses and they moved to sit on the couch. Jefferson didn’t sprawl like he was wont to do but rested his head on his hand, elbow on the armrest so he was sitting actually leaning away from Percy. The doctor breathed a little sigh of relief he at least wouldn’t have to have the other man in his personal space. He flicked the TV on and picked the first thing that looked like a movie. So focused was he on Jefferson he didn’t realize it was Ghostbusters until the screen filled with pink goo.

Why did that have to be on? Would Jefferson remember? He glanced sideways. Jefferson was staring at the screen, a slanted half smile on his face. Did that mean he did remember, or was it related to the movie? Could he recall, in as much detail as him, the moment they’d first kissed was while watching Ghostbusters on TV? Percy remembered vividly how aware he’d been of Jefferson’s presence throughout the evening. Every time he shifted, he’d noticed, his eyes unwillingly returning to the TV screen when he forced them. The scent of Red Vines in the air, Jefferson’s laugh, the way the couch had felt under his hands. He remembered it all. He remembered when he hadn’t been able to take just sitting there anymore and he’d bid goodbye to their friendship in his head before reaching out. His hand had shaken as he touched Jeff’s shoulder. The other boy had turned quizzically, a smile still on his face before Percy covered it with his lips. It had been a quick pressure of warmth, then he’d pulled back, braced for the angry yelling. But Jefferson had blinked slowly, like he was trying to work out some kind of code. Then he reached for Percy’s collar and instead of shaking him, pulled him close and kissed him. It had been clumsy and and unskilled but Percy’s heart had burnt in his chest and he’d felt the room around them disappear in a wave of blinding light.

Now, sixteen years later, they were sitting in the same way, watching the same movie. And his fingers ached to reach for him in the same way.

More than the years that had passed stood between them. Jefferson had never chosen him. When it mattered, he hadn’t chosen Percy. The other boy had moved on, had dated, married, had a child. Percy was the one who had been left behind, wanting and heartbroken. It had taken him a long time to put himself back together. Just because an accident of fate had brought the other man back into his life didn’t mean any of that had changed.

So he resolved to ignore the heat stirring in his stomach, the longing that rested like mist around his heart. Fastening his eyes on the screen, he stared unseeingly at the movie.

He was so focused on ignoring him, he didn’t notice when Jefferson shifted, or when he moved closer. It was only when he felt their knees were touching he came back to reality and froze. He knew he should move his knee away, should inch away. Jefferson probably hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He glanced at him. The other man was still watching the movie, his eyes dancing as the huge marshmallow man moved across the screen. Percy’s eyes fell back to their knees touching. Jefferson was wearing black jeans, his were blue. The area where they were actually touching was incredibly small and yet he felt like the nerve endings in that spot had blazed alive. So focused was he that every sensation increased, Jefferson’s skin seeming to burn through the fabric. Then he felt a touch to his shoulder. Sure Jefferson would be grinning at catching him staring, he steeled himself and turned his head to meet his eyes.

Jefferson’s gaze burned into his with a look that made air catch in his throat. Then his lips were on Percy’s and his hands cupped Percy’s face. Surprise only lasted a split second and his resolve to protest barely a moment. So with a sigh he wound his hands in Jefferson’s hair like he had wanted and took everything he wanted to give.

The kiss that had started timid, questioning, quickly warmed to passionate before hurtling into desperate. Percy felt like a house that had been left empty for years had suddenly been unlocked, opened and lit. The rooms he had once known held life once more. Shifting, he turned to face Jefferson and encouraged the other man moved to allow Percy’s leg to settle between the back of the couch and his hip. Pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around his back and tilting his head Jefferson deepened the kiss. Percy’s heart galloped in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow. So long. It had been so long. Like a man wandering through the desert he had found water and he wanted to drink it down in deep, fast gulps.

Jefferson was just as eager, his hands running over him hurriedly, his breathing strained. It seemed like a miracle. A miracle under his hands. Jeff hooked his hand under his knee and in one move backed, lifted Percy and slipped him lower on the couch so he was almost lying flat on his back. Hovering over him, he lowered himself, closer and closer. His chest melded to his and Percy couldn’t help rolling his hips. Jefferson groaned deep and the sound rumbled through Percy. Mirroring the gesture, Jeff ground against Percy and the unexpected friction made his back arch off the couch. Desperate, Percy pushed his hands between them and found Jefferson’s belt buckle. Fighting with it, Jefferson sat back. Then his hand came to rest over his.

“Wait. Grace.” The one word had Percy’s hands stilling. With a slow smile, Jefferson tilted his head up by the chin. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. “Next time.”

Percy knew there would never be a next time, that he was on borrowed time from the past. Something in the time space continuum had created a pocket where he and Jefferson were in the same place, feeling the same. Maybe it was even a dream.

Then Jefferson kissed him again and he didn’t care. Didn’t care if this was all he would ever have. As long as he could have this moment. So he returned the kiss and pressed Jefferson to lie back on the couch, turning the tables.

o.O.o

Percy sat at the breakfast bar the next morning dressed in the jeans from last night and a white t-shirt. His feet were bare and his coffee cup sat before him untouched. Staring down onto the counter, his head in his hands, he wondered if he could diagnose himself as temporarily insane or if one of his colleagues would have to do it to ensure as little bias as possible. He must have taken a leave of his senses if he made out with Jefferson until the small hours. If it hadn’t been for the fact he’d heard Grace talking in the guest room and felt his lips were tender from the previous night’s activities, he’d have thought he’d dreamed it all.

Why? Why was he such a glutton for punishment when it came to this man? Hadn’t he suffered enough without having the unavailable, gorgeous, infuriating man back in his life? But however he berated himself he knew the weak spot was there all the same. Jefferson had been his first love. He would always hold that place. If it happened again he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Jefferson was a drug and to have him running through his bloodstream was an unbeatable high. He’d do anything for it.

He heard steps on the stairs and sighed. It was time to check himself into rehab again. The second Jefferson left.

“Morning,” Jeff spoke from the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb and Percy’s mouth went dry. His hair was still tangled from the night before, his lips just a little swollen.

“Mm,” was all Percy managed and he gulped some coffee to ease his throat. All it did was scald his tongue.

“We’re just leaving, the locksmith says he’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Right.” He got up. “Do you...want some coffee? Breakfast?”

Grace opened her mouth, the enthusiasm alive in her eyes. But Jefferson shook his head.

“I’m afraid we have to go.”

Percy nodded. There it was. The end of the dream. Cold, harsh reality was knocking on the door.

“Of course.” He got up and showed them to the door. Grace sped out with a quick “bye”, spotting some children in the yard next door and beelining for them. Jefferson moved slower, putting his hands in his pockets and weighing on his feet.

“Right...I guess...I’m going.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Jefferson, it was...interesting to see you.”

Jeff’s smile flashed for a moment. “You too, Percy.” Then he walked down the steps and turned up his collar to the wind. Percy watched for a moment longer before shutting the door. Sighing, he stared accusingly at the couch. How could it look exactly as it had yesterday? All innocuous and dumpy.

There was a knock on the door and expecting girl scouts or mormons was surprised to see Jefferson.

“Jefferson. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.” His eyes were laughing. “Trick or treat, Percy?”

“What?”

“Come on. Trick or treat?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t put it past Jefferson to shove a handful of mud in his face or something at him if he said trick. Maybe that would help him seem less perfect. So he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and responded,

“Trick.”

“Will you go out with me?”

Percy blinked, dropped his arms to his sides. “I…”

“Please?” Jefferson stepped closer and put a hand to his cheek. The kiss that followed was different from last night’s. Soft, longing, lingering.

“Yes.” He had breathed the word before he knew it. Jefferson’s lips curved before they met his again and patiently swallowed every last objection Percy could think of.

“I’ll call you.” Jefferson rested his forehead on Percy’s for a moment before leaving with a last peck. He was almost all the way to sidewalk when Percy woke and called from the edge of the deck,

“Jefferson!” The other man spun on his heel, wearing a wide smile and his coat hanging open. “What if I’d chosen “treat”?”

“Then you’d have taken me out. It has to be a treat for the asker, remember?” Then he winked and was off.

Percy watched him and Grace until they got to the end of the street.

Epilogue

One Year Later

“How does it feel to be on this side of the action?” Jefferson asked behind him and Percy turned from watching Grace ringing the bell of a blue door across the street.

“Better.”

Jefferson stood with his hands in his pockets, smiling as Grace eagerly grabbed a fistul of gummy worms from the lady who lived in the house. She was a dressed as a mad scientist this year and stood out among the many princesses and Iron Men.

“And you wouldn’t rather sit at home with a good book and a glass of wine?”

“And miss this? No way. Besides, Grace promised me half her haul if I came with.”

“Really?” Jefferson sidled closer. “Cause she promised me half her haul.”

Percy chuckled. “Yeah, we’re still struggling with the fractions.”

“Thank God it’s you and not me. I detest fractions. And short division. And the multiplications table.”

“Daddy, daddy, look, I have ten more candies now!”

“Ten, wow! How many do I get?”

“Half.” Grace said stolidly and bit into a gummy worm.

“And what about Percy?”

“He gets half too.”

“And you, what do you get?” “The other half, silly.” Then she turned to Percy, her mouth full of gummy worm and her hands sticky, smelling of sugar and crackling excitement.

“Dad, can you tie my shoe?” She wiggled her small trainer clad foot.

Percy felt the world still around him, the word laying a weight around his shoulders. A weight he had never thought he would have ever wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without. The weight of responsibility and love for the little girl in front of him. He felt Jefferson’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing. He’d heard it too.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, of course I can.” Percy crouched and she put her foot on his knee while munching on her sweet. He tied her lace and with a called thanks, she set off for the next house. Still crouching he felt Jefferson’s hand on his neck, rubbing. Then the other man crouched next to him as well.

“She knows how to tie her shoes now,” Jefferson said.

“I know.”

“I guess she made it official before I could.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t really the time and place I pictured, but hey, Grace picked it and I trust her. So, Percy, what do you say? Will you marry me? Us?”

He sat back, on his knees, resting on his heels. Water from the rain wet street seeped through his jeans.

“I…”

“I know it’s fast, and we don’t have to. But I want you to know I want to. I want you, forever, Percy.”

His voice seemed to have gotten trapped in his throat, emotion choking him. “Of...course, I want to.”

“So, you’re saying…?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Jefferson laughed and pulled him close for a kiss, sitting in the middle of the street surrounded by children, laughter and the repeated words “Trick or Treat!”

[excitable-nugget]

Tagging?? in MY inbox? it’s more likely than you think

Heyo, Nugget here! I’ve been TAGGED with a WHOLE BUNCH of questions, so before I forget ((again)) imma do it REAL quick!

Rules

1. Post the rules 2. Answer the questions given to you by the tagger 3. Write 11 questions of your own 4. And tag 11 people

All right well here we goOOoOo

First off, tagged by the lovely @fraink5​! Thank you!!

1. What is the greatest unsolved mystery in your life?

Am I Actually a Robot or Does That Explanation Just Make a Weird Amount of Sense? 

2. What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen today?

I haven’t had a very funny day - aside from lunch it was solid school work. But during lunch we had family friends over, and the dad of the group was telling us about how these little parrots...

... had figured out how to get through the net he has over the veggie patch. They sit on the net to make the hole bigger, and then wiggle through. When they see you coming they do the same thing, but in reverse. I know these birds, they live all around my house too, so the mental image had me in hysterics. RIP the fruit trees though. He also taught me that pigs only have two legs which I never knew

3. If you casually adopted one anime character’s wardrobe, whose would it be?

OOooOo casually? Yosano, definitely. I’m actually looking into getting a whole wardrobe like that for work experience. Minus the cleaver. Otherwise it’d probably be Dazai, I love his design.

4. On a scale from HATE to would-bite-into-like-a-fruit, how do you feel about bell peppers?

H A T E. I don’t like bell peppers much, and the crunching sound they make when people bit into them like an apple is disturbing. That said....

So y’know. You have a right munch that pepper. 

5. Do you play (or have considered playing) FGO?

Looks like fun, but I am extremely time-poor, so no. ;w;

6. What is the rarest pair you have ever shipped?

To tell you the truth, I don’t really ship much at all. My ship-list is all the canon ships from FMA:B and Soukoku. That’s about it. But if you pressed me I’d say Kousano, seeing I’ve drawn art for it. 

7. How do you feel about sick fics?

Considering my favourite fic is a sick fic, I think they’re pretty cool. Good angst. 

8. What is something you reference excessively?

The Bible (Psalm 119:11) and random vines. ((most commonly “I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE”))

9. Saddest moment in any media (book, movie, anime, etc) you have consumed?

Les Mis. Both of the lady deaths. I was a mess. First movie that made me BAWL my eyes out. I’d gotten like three hours of sleep and my friends had abandoned me because they’d seen it before. I might also have been in a sleeping bag at 3 in the afternoon. Sad rainbow caterpillar lying on the ground sobbing. A day to remember.

10. Best/worst one-liner from a movie?

“It’s only fun if you get a scar out of it.” 

11. What would you make the last question to this questionnaire be?

Do you still hold the record among your acquaintances for holding chicken nuggets in one hand?

Sadly, no. A guy in my course can hold 18. It was a magical moment to find somebody else who knew how many they could hold.

Secondly, tagged by my dear @missmizpah​. Thank you, kouyonya~

1. Opinion on nuts?

I really love cashews. Aside from that... I had braces for a long time so I got out of the habit of eating them. 

2. Favorite book genre?

F a n t a s y. DROWN ME IN WHEEL OF TIME. Currently reading Mistborn. 

3. Worst injury/illness?

//BONE THINGS WARNING// A surgeon punched me in the face and broke my jaw in two places. Not really, he didn’t punch (that I know, I was unconscious) but that was The Worst. Plus, I got smacked in the half-healed jaw by an excited toddler’s head and that was about the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. It still aches sometimes, and you can feel the screws on the side he hit because it never quite healed properly. 

4. What attracts you to someone platonically?

If we click in conversation and they make me laugh I’m platonically smitten. Instant kill. 

5. What was the last dream you had?

//NON-DESCRIPTIVE GORE WARNING// I was stuck in a movie theatre where everyone was already in shows, and they wouldn’t let me into whatever I’d gone to see because I’d stepped out to go to the bathroom and forgotten my ticket. There were cameras everywhere and a janitor with a mop full of blood who was always just standing there smearing it all over the floor. Endless hallways, locked doors, all that good stuff. At some point a super-powered lady tried to fight me, but I had superpowers too so she was in for a nasty shock. I won, but towards the end the cinema doors opened and loads of zombies came pouring out of them all. Everyone in the cinema got zombified. They were everywhere and I got munched. The End.

6. Are you someone who eats cough drops like candy?

No. I actually haven’t had a cough drop in years, I should get them again!

7. Native language?

American English, but I live a hard life among the native Australian English speakers.

8. What size shoes do you wear?

Size 6 or 7 womens, depending on the shoe. That’s a 37/38 UK. *sticks my leggy out real far*

9. What is your current hair length?

To the middle of my torso, but it’s layered and wavy so it’s really inconsistent length-wise. No layers shorter than my shoulders though, I need to tie it up for work and it’s been a while since I got it cut. 

10. One habit you’re sure is specific to you?

I’m actually not sure - with so many siblings we all pick things up from each other. My siblings all started saying “YEET” and “HEWWO” because they heard me say them, much to my mother’s distress. I cross my toes a lot without thinking, and I’m not sure I’ve met anyone else who does that, so if that counts as a habit, then that. 

11. How far would you swim out into the ocean?

NOT AT ALL. OCEAN IS FULL OF SHARKS AND JELLYFISH THAT WILL KILL YOU. Maybe that’s the Aussie in me but.... no bueno. Also I’m terrible at swimming. The lane rope is my best friend and there are no lane ropes in the ocean. 

And that’s all!! Here are my questions:

If you could have one sense enhanced, what would it be?

Can you link your hands behind your back with one over the shoulder and one under? (like this)

Favourite colour to wear, or your favourite colour in general?

What was your internet pseudonym when you were 12-14?

What’s your favourite meat-based dish? If you don’t eat meat, what’s your favourite dish in general?

Would you rather be known as wise or strong?

What’s your favourite physical feature about yourself?

Would you rather explore the ocean depths or space?

What’s your favourite snack food?

If you could make one thing from fiction (e.g. a character, a place, a food, a machine) real, what would it be?

Is Australia real or just a conspiracy?

I would like to tag: @bandaged-chessmaster @chuuyabelongswithhappiness @queenofthecrackpit @star-tear @nathanielhawthorn ((hello new friend)) @myboynagito @yulicechan @semantic-satiation-and-cars @helllboii @turnaboutsweetheart aaaand @leio13! Do it if you feel like it, and have an awesome day! <3

[rayramsayus]

My First Professional Stage Management Responsibility

One more experience I will never forget was a time that John Wayne had a gathering on his boat in San Diego to support a charity that I can no longer remember. Mr. Wayne, Aldo Rea. Tim Hutton and others were there and we took the ship out for a spin, I got to attend as Josie Pollack’s friend. I found Mr. Wayne to be friendly and somewhat opinionated and, at times, funny. He was 6’4”, the tallest actor I had ever met at that point. John Wayne was legendary and his personality was intense, to say the least.

Well, it’s time to talk about something that happened that really changed my future. I had been volunteering my time in the theatre’s production department and especially with the stagehands, I had been volunteering to work with the stage manager and some point Mr. Doolittle told me that the theatre would sponsor me to become an Equity Stage Manager.

He even went so far as to put up the money for me to join the AFTRA (American Federation of Television and Radio Artists Union ) as well as the Actors Equity Union that is required for you to be certified as a stage manager, I was accepted and became a certified Stage Manager. Boy, you don’t realize how many performers and crew members count on your professionalism and focus. I remember when Doolittle told me about my first stage manager job at the Huntington Hartford, The play was called “Private Lives” by Noel Coward and it was set to star Brian Bedford and Tammy Grimes. He told me that he had arranged for me to have lunch at the Brown Derby which was just across the street from the theatre.

Well wow, I was excited and showed up dressed in my best coat and tie to meet them. Well, the meeting was going beautifully when all of a sudden I sneezed for some reason and threw out my lower back, launching me into extreme pain and the ability to straighten up or walk for that matter. We had to call an ambulance so I could leave the restaurant and get some care for my condition. They took me to an emergency room where they ultimately gave me some muscle relaxers and stretched my lower vertebrae back into place which virtually illuminated a substantial amount of my pain and mobility.

So the good news was that I was back on my feet within 48 hours. Well, I thought my career as a stage manager was totally over and especially being considered to be the stage manager for the “Private Lives” show. Fortunately, the doctors gave the release to go back to work and the stars of the show said they would be happy with me being the stage manager for the show. So I was not fired before I even got to start and I thanked them for their faith in my abilities to perform the duties. So I was good to go with my first professional stage management responsibility thanks for Brian Bedford and Tammy Grimes faith in my abilities to do the job.  When you consider the fact that I had never professionally stage-managed a show and I was only 25 years old at the time.

Note: To give an explanation for what happened with my back. I later learned that I had some curvature of my spine and that my last vertebrae did not form properly. Because of this, I was getting a lot of pain occasionally from my lower back. It could be brought on by something as small as a sneeze or bending over incorrectly.  When it would go out just shaving would be very painful. When it would go out it would take several days for me to get back to work. I finally had enough and went to see an orthopedic surgeon. As part of his evaluation, he took a series of X-Rays and other spinal checks.  He informed me that my problem was the fact that I had some curvature of my spine since my last vertebrae did not form properly and because of this a lot of the cartilage surrounding my lower vertebrae was deteriorating. He told me he could operate on this but couldn’t guarantee that the outcome would totally solve my condition.

Then he told me that my best solution would be a series of exercises that would build up my muscles surrounding the vertebrae. He then said something I have never forgotten. If you will do these exercises every day you can illuminate the pain and back issues for many years. Then he said I know you won’t do it because no one I tell to do this actually does it, I told him if I can make the pain and inconvenience go away I will definitely do the exercises every day forever. He said that most of the people just didn’t stick with it. It’s going to take you several months to accomplish what you need. Well, I did it, I go to the gym 5 days a week and since I do I have not had an issue with my back since then.

Well, the show went off without a hitch and everyone was very pleased with my stage management capabilities. I also became fast friends with the performers in the show and kept in touch for a while. The next show I got to work on was “Bell Book & Candle” starring Zsa Zsa Gabor. Ms. Gabor was a real piece of work. Basically, she wasn’t a very nice person. She went through 8 dressers during the rehearsals alone. We were having real difficulties finding anyone to want to work with her. Most of the time she was just plain rude to the crew and others in the cast who had to work with her. Everyone loved her sister but hardly anyone liked her. That said, the show went off well despite her and her less than good reviews. She thankfully didn’t give me much trouble and even asked me to work with her in her wigs business which I refused to do.

The next show was probably the one I was most proud of. There was a group of actors that came together to start a theatre group called the Plumsted Players which was a group of very famous actors who wanted to produce some classic plays that hadn’t been produced for years. Some of the members of the group where Henry Fonda, Robert Ryan, Bette Davis, Angela Lansbury, and Agnes Moorehead. And many others that I just can’t remember. I was privileged to have met and become acquainted with Helen Hayes (first lady of the American Theatre), Angela Lansbury and others. From the 50’s and 60’s era. One of the things that I found incredible was the language this woman would use would make you cringe. You didn’t want to make a mistake because when they came off stage they could out curse any man alive. The women I met and worked with could hold their own with any man. Their language just blew me away. Hearing the first lady of the theatre say things you would never say to a woman. My next show was “Our Town” starring Henry Fonda, at the Huntington Hartford theatre. I have got to say one of my favorite actors back then was Henry Fonda and the chance to meet him and work with him was a dream come true. Mr. Fonda was much more than I expected. He was a really nice man and very appreciative of everyone who worked with him. That said, he and I got along beautifully and he was very kind to everyone on the crew and the other actors working with him in the show. The show was a huge success and was sold out every night to great reviews. Mr. Fonda made it a point to introduce me to his wife at the time as well as kids Jane & Peter. Jane was very nice and Peter could have cared less and not all that friendly as he at the time was basting in his success with “Easy Rider”. Of all the shows I ever worked on Henry Fonda was the only star to attend the cast party at the end of the show He stayed until the party ended, engaged in conversation with everyone and posed for photos with just about everybody.

He had the uncanny ability to make everyone feel he truly appreciated your efforts in making the show a success. He always made you feel that you were a friend, not just an associate.

We kept in touch and when he decided to write produce another play. He got in touch with Josie Pollack and asked if I would stage-manage his new play which he was going to open at the Santa Barbara Civic Theatre. The theme of the show was the Generation Gap (which was a hot topic back then”. It was a one-man show and all I was responsible for was making sure the sound and lights were working and there as I remember some supported video he used on the topic. Back then the problem was that your children didn’t like you and the Vietnam War was extremely unpopular and there were many anti-war demonstrations and many blamed everyone over 40 and were doing anything to stop the war and Henry Fonda’s Daughter was, unfortunately, the poster child of the conflict. I remember coming to the theatre to do a rehearsal and test the sound, lighting, and video to make sure all was working,

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[ulyssesredux]

Nestor

I can break them in, he said, glancing at the table.

Time has branded them and knew their years of wandering and, patient, knew the dishonours of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be slightly crawsick?

Stephen said quietly. You, Armstrong.

Ay.

I restore order here. Weave, weaver of the slain, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. Jousts. Good-night. He peered from under his shaggy brows at the shapely bulk of a man again. Observe her; stand far off.

Do you know that the multiplying villanies of nature? Yet hear me, Mr Dedalus, he said. He waits to hear from me. Welcome, Publius; lest that the uttermost?

Good sir, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a pocket of my lack of rule and of the jews.

On his wise shoulders through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets. Mirthless high malicious laughter. —Again, sir.

You have two copies there. —What do you mean by that which you denied me: under glowlamps, impaled, with ten thousand war-like shield. Thank you. Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his tent, Cassius! The charm's wound up. Courteous offer a fair trial. It's about the foot a crooked signature with blind loops and a whirring whistle.

Thou hast describ'd a hot friend cooling. I did for him?

Or art thou, Strato? He came to the Capitol, a disappointed bridge. What! When I behold—Seyton, I hope in no place so unsanctified where such as he stamped on gaitered feet.

Veterinary surgeons. Our cattle trade. There can be no two opinions on the earth Was feverous and did take it forth; the title is affeer'd! I had most need of blessing, and I have put the matter? Descend.

Yes, sir? They bundled their books away, away!

Any general to any officers. —beauteous and swift, the frozen deathspew of the world. Antonius Send word to you they have grudg'd us contribution: the enemy, marching along by them.

What if that nightmare gave you a married man, good Messala: with meditating that she must die, Messala: with meditating that she must die; who, having just remembered. The sum was done. And they are the faction. Ask me, Julius!

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; but, withal, a surgeon to old shoes; when think you that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the channel.

Yes, sir: the soul is the pride of the world would have been possible seeing that they never were? There can be cured.

These growing feathers pluck'd from Cæsar's wing will make us so unhappy.

Ask me, Mr Deasy said. —There was a most indissoluble tie for ever, by the open porch and watched the laggard hurry towards the window, saying: Weep no more: I would not so: imps of fancy of the wind. —Who knows?

That shalt be what thou wouldst holily; wouldst not play false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin that has a lean and hungry look; he bears to Cæsar as to Cæsar. Now does he say of Brutus? Horror! Ring the bell. The way of all the highest places: her finance, her press. And that is: the trembling skeleton of a ball and calls from the boys' playfield and a blot. This is a traitor live. —Who has not? My cousin, welcome hither. Soft day, the proof of my lack of rule and of these coronets; and shalt be king stands not within the gabbled verses and floated out into the other side.

Mr Deasy said. Do you know why? Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. I, older in practice, abler than yourself to make them kings, though they do, Stir up their dead; and, I fear those big words, unhating. —Yes, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. O woeful day! They lend ear.

And yet it was for Malcolm and Donalbain! We are all Irish, all gabbling gaily: The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. —You, Cochrane, what shall be done. Mr Deasy said, is a noble roman, and tongue: unsafe the while ran blood, Yea, get the start of the canteen, over the stone porch and down the gravel of the cattletraders' association today at the south entry; retire we to the toe top full of grief.

A hoard heaped by the open porch and in the theatre, I should not humour me. Came they not forc'd with those that gave the Thane of Fife had a heart within the prospect of belief no more believ'd, that one of these machines. Get thee to bed?

What! —I am arm'd so strong in honesty that they never were? —Tell us the will I told you Cæsar home? Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the volume of which time I have to say I am bent to know no personal cause to spurn at him, sir. We have committed many errors and many sins. —Very good. Let us toward the north he first presents his fire; and I will.

Therefore, good man. She had saved him from being trampled underfoot and had gone, scarcely having been.

Their likes: their hands in Cæsar's heart, and drop my blood cold and my firm nerves Shall never tremble: or be rid on 't. On the steps of the library of Saint Genevieve where he had reached the schoolhouse voices again contending called to him. Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, you yourself are much condemn'd to have done the deed go with me?

Wisdom! I honour him; for him?

Gabble of geese.

Who has not? And as he passed out through the narrow waters of the world, a soft stain of ink lay, dateshaped, recent and damp as a snail's bed. See.

Have I heard all? A hard one, sir.

There can be cured. Lo!

Such a one be fit to govern! —A pier, sir?

That's not English. The will! He came to the point by looking down on Cæsar. Yes. When you have lived as long as I am to blame: on me.

—There was a Brutus once that would speak with me. Now then, of senators, and this, whorled as an emir's turban, and half their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Say I love Brutus, a heart new-planted orchards, on the earth, listened, scraped and scraped.

Mr Deasy asked.

Go on then, lest occasion call us, but an Englishman too. If charnel-houses and our best friends shall wish I had done or said any thing that other men. The soul is in the corridor. To learn one must be a teacher, I hear horses.

—I want that to be thought away. I am Cinna the conspirator.

You mean that knockkneed mother's darling who seems to be slightly crawsick? A heavy summons lies like truth; Fear not, Cassius, far from this ground.

—That on his damned quarrel smiling, and time one livid final flame. But can those have been mine! They are, my lord. Can you feel that? Stephen said, poking the boy's graceless form. Let me tell you that, when he doth say to all the voyage of their benches, leaping them. Ay, and that their eldest son was in some way if not dead by now. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his thoughtful voice said. They lend ear. Vain patience to heap and hoard. For them too history was a battle, sir.

Then 'tis he: the bells in heaven were striking eleven. Post back with speed, Antonius, to God what is God's. —Dying, he said.

Peace, then. —friends, disperse yourselves; but will follow, thou break'st thy instrument a strain or two? Better be with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. What is it, gentle heavens, as it needs to dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Good repose the while! Lal the ral the ra, the scallop of saint James. Dictates of common sense. Give me your ears; I have a letter here for the smooth caress. Like him was I, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his being thrusts against my will.

I have rebel blood in me the daggers. Where? —Now then, Talbot. And do you begin in this?

I take my stand, and laid them carefully on the same. No, sir?

Yet someone had loved his weak watery blood drained from her, to pierce the polished mail of his trousers.

Curran, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a soul and to rejoice in his sayings. O, ask me, and very wisely threat before you sting. Not I. O, treachery! Think you I am happier than you are, he said again, he said.

Excuse me, and were distracted; no man that's born of woman is.

—Full stop, Mr Dedalus! Trebonius! Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one guinea, Koehler, three pairs of socks, one of woman is. To learn one must be a teacher, I hear nothing.

Sirrah, your tongue: look like the issue of a bog: and in my mind's darkness a sloth of the slain, a disappointed bridge. Stephen said: What, Lucius!

Cassandra. —Why, now, keep seat; the bell. Talbot slid his closed book into his satchel. Money is power. —A pier, sir. England.

—There was a most sainted king; where nothing, but signs of a ball and calls from the sheet on the pillars as he searched the papers on his desk. Two, he began. Lay it to thy good truth and honour.

Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his laughter as he stamped on gaitered feet. You wrong'd yourself to make him fly the land? No. —Do you understand how to do so. The lump I have. —her young ones in her heart. Stale smoky air hung in the earth to this hart; here let them in, and foul is fair: Hover through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. This by Calphurnia's dream is signified. A kind of a nation's decay.

It shall be, Helen, the sun flung spangles, dancing coins.

All? —friends, go to heaven. Grain supplies through the checkerwork of leaves the sun never sets. Who knows if Donalbain be with his golden blood; and I will leave you. Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning.

—Yes, sir? Good God, betimes remove the means of all the world.

Carried to colmekill; the conquerors can but make a fire of him; for he swounded and fell down, good man.

By your pardon; that which thou shalt see me pay. He will live, and that great vow which did flame and burn like twenty torches join'd; and let me depart alone, and him, till you practise them on me, 'Thane of Cawdor shall deceive our bosom interest. A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our own proper entrails.

Mr Deasy said gravely. A riddle, Stephen said. —Just one moment.

—Good morning, which all the other side.

And then, 'tis his fashion: do not doubt but that my noble master will appear such as thou didst hate him worst, thou art, for Lycidas, your sorrow, is now. Stephen said, that look not like your faults.

By a woman who was no more: the trembling skeleton of a nation's decay. Look, Lucius! And be all traitors that do sound so fair? They broke asunder, sidling out of his coat a pocketbook bound by a leather thong. What news? —alas!

—Wait.

He dried the page with a sheet of thin blottingpaper and carried his copybook. —Who can answer a riddle?

Pyrrhus not fallen by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been knifed to death.

Irish cattle.

Mr Deasy said firmly, was his motto. They mean this night in Sardis to be Cawdor.

Thus, Brutus, that wilt ravin up thine own esteem, letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would, while you perform your antick round, and, at Philippi here, MacMurrough's wife and her leman, O'Rourke, prince of Wales. He doth run his course.

What, sir? Where? He held out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said. All human history moves towards one great goal, the instruments of fear.

You may do danger with.

Is not thy master with him? Mr Deasy said, which give some soil perhaps to my consent, when it serves, or memorize another Golgotha, I beseech you, Cassius; and come down with fearful bravery, thinking by this they stay for me as I have put the matter? He faced about and back again. Welloff people, proud that their eldest son was in the navy.

But what does Shakespeare say? There can be no two opinions on the table. Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, I shall unfold to me, when Cæsar's head is off. You don't know yet what money was, so often in our history. Come now, i' faith, with his ancestors. Not theirs: these clothes, this speech, these apparent prodigies, the duke of Westminster's Shotover, the angry spot doth glow on Cæsar's brow, and underwrit, Here may you see it done. Good Portia, art thou, that his virtues will plead like angels trumpet-tongu'd against the light, Mr Deasy cried. Will you wait in my pocket: symbols soiled by greed and misery. —Yes, sir. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and my country's friend; but how of Cawdor shall deceive our bosom interest. They are not to walk unbraced and suck up the earth, listened, scraped up the drum to erase an error.

—Can you feel that? —I paid my way.

But what does Shakespeare say? —Come I to speak truth of Cæsar follow'd it, Mark how the people fell a-bed: there's warrant in that 'cæsar? Why had they chosen all that part?

Do not presume too much: such men are flesh and blood ill-compos'd affection such a feeble tongue. Their full slow eyes belied the words, Mr Dedalus, he said over his shoulder, the frozen deathspew of the tribute. O, do I? We'll answer. I grant I am sure they do it; from which I am Thane of Cawdor too; Marullus and Flavius, set our battles on: now spurs the lated traveller apace to gain the timely inn; and here from gracious England have I offer of goodly thousands: but swords I smile at any time, with your arms, quite vanquish'd him: he hath left them you, keep seat; the very source of it. You seem to fear.

I am no true man. —Pull 't off, grapples you to Scone to be slightly crawsick? —Very good. Yet who would have trampled him underfoot, a riddling sentence to be a wolf but that, had done 't: their many forms closed round him, I am afraid to know his humour, when the fit was on him; if not as memory fabled it. They were villains, murderers.

Bring them before us. —O, do, Mr Deasy asked. —Cochrane and Halliday are on the soft pile of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. Curran, ten guineas. Percentage of salted horses. European conflagration. How, sir? —You, Armstrong. Then by day where wilt thou find a time for this poor soul to go to meet him. You blocks, you stones, but like a thing of custom: 'tis time.

Or was that only possible which came to the old man's voice cried sternly: Hockey! I am a bachelor? And yet it was in the back bench whispered.

Where do you know anything about Pyrrhus?

Villains! His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. Where Cranly led me to, I say, our fears do make us so unhappy. Time surely would scatter all. —And the story, sir. Stephen said, and again return to this day a crown; yet let that be which the poor cat i' the shipman's card.

Is 't possible? Antonius! I know I am trying to awake.

Was feverous and did bathe their hands in Cæsar's blood up to the crack of doom?

Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night.

See.Hail, Cæsar! Irish, all the music, Cry 'cæsar. I charge you. Dismay'd not this our lofty scene be acted o'er, in his pocket.

Foot and mouth disease. Donalbain! But what does Shakespeare say? Stephen said, till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane;and now a wood comes toward Dunsinane. Allimportant question. He held out his rare moustache Mr Deasy said. Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of the infinite possibilities they have grudg'd us contribution: the hollow shells.

I came hither to transport the tidings, which I am Thane of Cawdor!

A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here, in doing it, gentle friends, rest on this hill. We didn't hear. Sit down.

Their full slow eyes belied the words, Stephen said, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night. Now good digestion wait on nature's mischief! Symbols too of beauty and of power. Tranquility sudden, for he will live, who else must be done, undone; but, for he swounded and fell down. Cæsar should be thine or his fear.

—I will fight and Ulster will fight for the gold.

Stand! —Who has not? He fought, but dare not speak much further: but for the hospitality of your columns. Fair is foul, and say how much is done.

Stephen said. He lies not like the former.

They must lie there when I tell you that, Mr Deasy said.

We have scotch'd the snake, in the dark palaces of both our hearts, as rushing out of use. —Yes, sir.

The Evening Telegraph—That will do, Mark Antony to the Capitol. A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel. I, these sloping shoulders, this speech, these apparent prodigies, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his lips.

You wrong me every way; you may; the least a death to throw away the dearest thing he is grown so great men shall press for tinctures, stains, relics, and cry out, sir.

Where Cranly led me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their instruments.

The merciless Macdonwald—worthy to be dethroned.

Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with Ate by his lov'd mansionry that the people may be rightly just, whatever I shall be. —Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. Take thy face, have wish'd that noble Brutus had rather have such a thing as Cæsar! Heaven forgive him too! Had he not? —Now then, Mr Deasy bade his keys. What! Gabble of geese.

Rinderpest. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Beneath were sloping figures and at the end. Mr Deasy said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a medley, the manifestation of God.

I know my hour is come. Gone too from the sheet on the same pulpit whereto I am among them, may you see, so depart. Day!

Now is that? Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated. —Ba! —Thank you. —What?

Money is power. —Sit down a bough and bear the guilt of our watch.

—Weep no more, for the press that calls upon us with your approach; so were you, Lepidus? Mirthless high malicious laughter. If thou speak'st. Cæsar cried, Help me, sir, Stephen said. Go on, Stephen said, glancing at the shapely bulk of a several bastardy, if you can get it into your two papers. Give me some drink, sir, Stephen answered. Telegraph—That is God. Cousins, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three pairs of socks, one that feeds on abject orts, and make your bondmen tremble. Do you understand now? —Full stop, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.

Be bloody, fiery, and I know my hour is come round, that keeps him company, whose absence is no time to lose. —History, Stephen said.

He went out by the table. He can report, they could be found. I will tell you, sir. With this I bury all unkindness, Cassius; for piercing steel and darts envenomed shall be. Farewell to you? —I know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the even field. All laughed. If youth but knew the dishonours of their flesh. Or so much trash as may be grasped thus?

—Don't carry it like that and we can entreat an hour. —Mr Dedalus! Even money the favourite: ten to one the field. You had better get your stick and go out to the desk near the window, pulled in his fur, with faintly beating feelers: and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of the tribute. You fenians forget some things.

What was the end of Pyrrhus, sir, Stephen said. —O, ask me, and laid them carefully on the same wisdom: and am moreover suitor that I profess myself in banqueting to all at once, upon this bank and shoal of time, and bind us further to you. He waits to hear of it, sir. Mccann, one of them. —What, sir John! Stephen said, turning back; when they are the signs of a sign. He went to the heart, and reverence. Mulligan will dub me a taper in my voluptuousness: your statue spouting blood in me too, Mr Deasy said, which make us traitors.

Two, he said, and here my naked breast; within my sword's length set him; for, I hope. Ay. Macbeth! I had rather be a fume, and Unspeak mine own sword? Again, sir. Do you know why? Sit down. The name of honour more than to repute himself a son of Rome! Light thickens, and by you cut off the board, sir. This rudeness is a great way growing on the empty bay: it is regularly treated and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. Stephen said. Their sharp voices cried about him on, Macduff: what private griefs they have ousted. My dearest love, Duncan comes here? What a fall was there, these gestures. Or is it now? —It is cured. I am a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni. Lal the ral the ra. Fair Rebel! Elfin riders sat them, watchful of a man in Rome as easily as a demagogue? One knocks. —Mark my words, Mr Deasy shook his head; the queen that bore thee, that this shall be.

Mulligan, nine pounds, three pairs of socks, one guinea. There is a tide in the struggle. —How, sir.

Well? You'll find them deck'd with ceremonies.

Talk not of standing. Fed and feeding from our stools: this is more dangerous than he within. Stephen said, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night. Stephen said, poking the boy's graceless form. He lifted his gaze from the sin of Paris, 1866. On the spindle side. Horror!

—After, Stephen said: The cock crew, the temple, their bracelets tittering in the porch and down the gravel path under the trees, hearing the cries of voices and crack of doom? Get thee to bed. We are a generous people but we must also be just. Croppies lie down. The wood of Birnam rise, and laid them carefully on the earth to this hart; and then is death a benefit: so shall he dwindle, peak and pine: though his bark cannot be undone. His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. Why are you then, and fix'd his head.

—Alas, Stephen said, rising. He faced about and back again. Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders.

We give it up.

Varro! They lend ear. Let me tell you more news too; Marullus and Flavius, for Lycidas, your half, why then, an actuality of the cattletraders' association today at the height, are ready to give a sound, while it was fam'd with more than all the highest places: her finance, her press. Well, sir. Crumbs adhered to the succeeding royalty he leaves the sun never sets. He faced about and back again. And snug in their stead do ravens, crows, and fawn'd like hounds, and tell them, among their battling bodies in a sieve I'll thither sail, and bring me their opinions of success, commencing in a most fast sleep. Though now we must also be just.

Bear with him.

Framed around the walls images of vanished crowds. Running after me. All. Those that Macbeth hath slain.

Had he not?

Sitting at his classmates, silly glee in profile. They met me in borrow'd robes? But life is fall'n into the world.

Who is here so base that would have trampled him underfoot, a pier. Do you know why? On his wise shoulders through the gate: somebody knocks.

Age, thou lov'dst Cassius.

And be not jealous on me. Publius is come.

A merchant, Stephen said as he followed towards the Capitol to-morrow, and all our old robes sit easier than our new! An I had been further. I, Casca, like a chidden train: Calphurnia's cheek is pale, and his secret as our Roman actors do, Stir up their sweaty night-shriek, and bring us word unto Octavius' tent, Cassius, the scallop of saint James. And you can get it into your eye, the housekeeper, the manifestation of God.

With this I bury all unkindness, Cassius, now have you chose out, sirs, in your wisdom.

—A merchant, Stephen said, till I restore order here. —Good morning, sir.

Infected be the maws of kites. —Don't carry it like that and we must also be just. A hoard heaped by the name of most kind hostess; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his own change, Titinius; are those my tents where I will wrong such honourable men! That will do, Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of excess. And you can see the tyrant.

A kind of a twig burnt in the sides of my lack of rule. His thick hair and a whirring whistle. Stephen said quietly. He came to the desk near the window, saying: What do you mean?

Do you find your patience so predominant in your letters from your wife withal, there ran a rumour of many kings.

Did not you speak? You had better get your stick and go out to the old man's stare. To come to-morrow—and betimes I will do, Mr Deasy said I was to copy them off the board, sir, Stephen said quietly. —There was a grievous fault, dear Brutus, come, young Cato;—for Brutus, stole from my cousin, Blackwood Price.

Answer something. Stephen said.

Armstrong. Is Brutus sick, and the rich East to boot. But, O you gods!

Symbols too of beauty and of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their pitches and reek of the Creator are not set for.

Where? Those that will make sick men whole.

Did heaven look on 't; yet he spurs on: now spurs the lated traveller apace to gain the timely inn; and when he once attains the upmost round, which make us so unhappy. Lucilius, do you begin in this instant if I will.

A swarthy boy opened a book where men May read strange matters. —No thanks at all, Mr Deasy told me to you; and you, keep thine oath; when every drop of us be call'd the men deny 't. Pray you, he draws Mark Antony out of their boots and tongues.

Lal the ral the ra, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, night by night. Is not to walk in. Alas, Stephen said. Thou shouldst attempt it. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy asked. Day! Claudius! That will do so. Come in, Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.

—Very good.

Hoarse, masked and armed, the victory fell on us, let me not.

He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and all things else that might change his nature, pay his breath. —Very good. I paid my way. On the spindle side. Shame itself!

They are all Irish, all kings' sons. —Tell me now, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. Their likes: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their land a pawnshop.

Grant that, Mr Deasy cried.

Perchance even there where I stood rapt in the world. I will set down what comes from her own. Listen great things: Brutus shall lead; and Brutus Antony, here abjure the taints and blames I laid upon myself.

Their likes: their breaths, too, sweetened with tea and jam, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats. —It is cured. No; they are wanderers on the first day he bargained with me here. I mean; and with his former title greet Macbeth.

—Run on, his throat itching, answered: What, Pindarus? The words troubled their gaze. Call'd you, it would be worn now in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the Moors. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so are we now afloat; and at the name and date in the mummery of their flesh. Is not thy master with him!

Is 't possible?

If Cæsar hide himself, and with him. O gentle lady! To Caesar what is the form of yours hides wrongs; the attempt and not your own degrees; sit down.

Tear him to lay my letter before the prelates of your literary friends. There is no time broke my faith, would not have taken heart thou vanishest: Ill spirit, see there! Sit down a moment. —Asculum, Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his chair twice and read off some words from the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their boots and tongues. In a moment. A sweetened boy's breath. —After, Stephen said.

O my dear dear love to your rash choler?

Into the air, into which they vanished. To learn one must be a freeman; and death for his valour; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his lips. Time has branded them and knew their zeal was vain. 279 B C—Asculum, Stephen said quietly.

Thank you.

He shot from it two crowns and two shillings. Their sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, Strato. Stephen's embarrassed hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend. Their eyes knew their years of wandering and, to you he would fain have had so much tempt the heavens, as it is very simple, Stephen said, pointing his finger.

Comes his army on? —Mine would be often empty, Stephen said again, bowing to his virtue let us not leave him: then walk we forth, they say, You'll rue the time of help; your eye in Scotland would create soldiers, patch? Mr Dedalus, he said joyously. —First, our duties: and Titinius guard our door.

What enterprise, nor more fearful. Stephen asked. That will do, Mr Deasy said gravely. All is the air oldly before his voice spoke. Soft day, if we cannot fight. It shall be so much upon your rest: good morrow, Antony, our little financial settlement, he is not: I have just to copy the end. —A learner rather, Stephen said.

All our service, in the back bench whispered. As a friend. His eyes are made the fools O' the earth so full of growing.

When those that talk of fear. —Who has not? Give me, sir. Welcome hither: I have drugg'd their possets, that Brutus' love to Cæsar, do I?

I pray you, sir.

—Wait.

Stephen asked. And the story, sir, why hath it given me fire. Now I have mov'd me. Sit down.

As on the other senses, or shall we give sign of battle hurtled in the fire, Authoriz'd by her continually; 'tis but the Norweyan banners flout the sky was blue: the gods defend thee!

The night has been unruly: where they most breed and haunt, I hope. What was the end of my fellows had the speed of him.

Gone too from the playfield the boys raised a shout. He waits to hear from me.

Fair Rebel! Ay, do receive you in with me into this angry flood, leads on to Dublin from the lumberroom: the time of life. We didn't hear. He saw their speeds, backing king's colours, and smear the sleepy grooms with blood.

A kind of a girl. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the end of Pyrrhus, sir.

Yes, sir.

I myself have all true faith. These are handy things to have.

Fare thee well, and slips of yew Sliver'd in the unshrinking station where he had read, sheltered from the king hence to his bench. —That will do, with your little ones. A sweetened boy's breath.

I am not to disprove what Brutus spoke, but bear it so. Temple, two shillings. Tell us a story, sir.for, I should avoid so soon. Away, and wisdom to offer up a weak, poor country!

Tonight deftly amid wild drink and thralls of sleep? Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria.

In long shaky strokes Sargent copied the data. I can break them in, and something from the lumberroom: the hollow knock of a sign. Then he is full so valiant, and little is to blame to be printed and read, sheltered from the common pulpits, and sudden push gives them the overthrow.

Was that then real? But, hold thee, that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the cattletraders' association today at the foot and mouth disease. Stephen said. He voted for the press.

They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said, and nimbleness.

But I am wrong.

—Very good.

A swarthy boy opened a book and propped it nimbly under the trees, hearing the cries of voices and crack of sticks from the boys' playfield and a whirring whistle: goal. You were not born to be dethroned. Hoarse, masked and armed, the duke of Beaufort's Ceylon, prix de Paris, 1866.

Mr Deasy said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a medley, the joust of life. Their likes: their many forms closed round him, have sent to peace, have sent to give thee from prevention. Hark!

—She never let them in, Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet. Poor man!

I remember the famine in '46.

I but Believe it partly, for Mark Antony offer him a coin of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their pitches and reek of rapine in his royalty of nature reigns that which you are, he finds himself beholding to us.

What watchful cares do interpose themselves Betwixt your eyes and night? —What do you the cause why I, mother?

From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, Hath given me fire. —I fear those big words, Mr Dedalus, he began.

If thou couldst not die more honourable. Pyrrhus? Doubtful it stood by the strength of their benches, leaping them. A sweetened boy's breath. What is that the sword of traitors.

From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his bent back. May I trespass on your foot, and know it now? Courteous offer a fair trial.

Shake off this downy sleep,as a demagogue? Stands Scotland where it did not lie there when I ask'd you what the matter? How did you dare fight to-day, sir? To Caesar what is a meeting of the word along. Talbot repeated: Weep no more! 'tis very like: he only, but an effect of humour, when! —The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

—O, ask me, by the roadside: plundered and passing on. —Asculum, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. Talbot. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. There's but one in all my life, being men, like a deer, to every several man, to see my best friend ta'en before my body I throw my war-like Siward: that, Mr Deasy came away stepping over wisps of grass with gaitered feet.

A shout in the street, Stephen answered. Before the eyes of both our hearts: secrets weary of their letters, I have observ'd the air. A friend. Do you know why? What's the newest grief? He brought out of his trousers.

What is't o'clock? —For the moment, no teeth for the smooth caress. He voted for it and put on his desk. —I knew you couldn't, he said again, if you will not disclose 'em. And the story, sir? Russell, one of joined halves, and did bathe their hands and this, that Brutus' love. True, my lord; Say I love him well by sight—held up his face, that have done no harm intended to your person, nor coign of vantage, or worse days endure.

That reminds me, I am bent to know no secrets that appertain to you by word of promise to our hearts: secrets weary of their flesh.

His thick hair and a reveller. Name him not, in doing it, sir? Here was a battle, you are, and make us so unhappy.

Answer me directly. We must not yield to die: no sooner justice had with valour the melting spirits of this day's council; and in her arms and in Ireland, they have ousted. The seas' ruler. His mother's prostrate body the fiery Columbanus in holy zeal bestrode. You don't know yet what money was, Mr Deasy said gravely.

Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to satisfy the senate-house; Stay not to be afeard to tell you, but speak not. —You, Armstrong.

My father gave me seeds to sow. You don't know yet what money was, Mr Dedalus, with some of your sort; draw them to you alone. Even money the favourite: ten to one the field. That is God. Even money the favourite: ten to one the field.

Woe to the lady. No thanks at all, made one of these machines. I would not, when the most exalted shores of all our nights, free again, Lucius, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. —Through the dear might—Turn over, Stephen said, rising. Well; more anon. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing in love; joy for his bad verses, tear him! Enter, sir.

Now I'm going to try publicity.

Their eyes grew bigger as the lines were repeated.

—Half day, your honour! Write them together, lest occasion call us, by being ignorant of what thyself didst make, strange images of death, a butcher's dame, nuzzling thirstily her clove of orange. A ghoststory. A woman brought sin into the world. Well?

Old England is in your teeth. What was the end. For the moment, no, Stephen said, if I have begun to plant thee, and here again, went back to the table, pinning together his sheets. Wilt thou lift up Olympus! O Cicero! He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his lifted arms waving to the dogs of war; that which he halted. Hoarse, masked and armed, the planters' covenant. —Mr Deasy said.

Prepare to lodge their companies to-morrow, when he was ambitious; if ill, cannot once start me. Stands Scotland where it did, I hope. Where is thy instrument?

Looking up again?

To come to bury Cæsar, and I'll do. Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath. He made money. A bridge is across a river. The black north and true blue bible. Why, so well as I am so much trash as may be I shall do so. —Half day, with faintly beating feelers: and in the struggle. And the story, sir.

Irish Homestead. Thanking you for the hospitality of your communion denounced him as a snail's bed. Marry, before he fell. Three twelve, he began.

Light thickens, and those sparks of life is the thought of thought.

Secrets, silent, stony sit in the spirit of men Began a fresh assault. He's a traitor, the mistress of your literary friends.

Listen, but kill'st the mother that engender'd thee. Croppies lie down. They broke asunder, sidling out of his mind.

How 'scap'd I killing when I did love thee, and had gone, scarcely having been.

—would well become a borrower of the night: early to-morrow. He turned his angry white moustache. My father gave me makes me forgetful? I do fawn on men and such fiery eyes as we point the way?

Think you to the tissue of his satchel. Thanking you for your pains, and laid them carefully on the earth to this day. 'tis call'd the evil: a third is like the leaving it; for thy humour, I know not: he was combin'd with those of old, and howlet's wing, and our duties: and this, the manifestation of God. The boy's blank face asked the blank window.